


kiss your fears

by brights (orphan_account)



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Strangulation, trans!Rhys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7062100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/brights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When your greatest fears are finally realized, how will you react?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. tell me why this hurts so much

**Author's Note:**

> * this is a repost of my very first rhack fic, please be mindful of the tags when reading.

There’s the smell of the freshly fired ammunition, coupled with a quiet that’s just so absolutely _intense_ that neither of them speak, though the air is uncomfortable and the younger of the two looks like he’s absolutely going to vomit. Quiet sounds of the older man tucking his pistol back into his holster make Rhys finally look up with wide eyes at the scene before them. Jack doesn’t speak for once, there isn’t a smart comment or a joke being cracked, and that’s when Rhys knows that this is serious. Heterochromatic eyes scan the scene briefly before they focus on Rhys, and he nudges his head slightly, toward the dead body.

 

“You see that, princess?”

 

Rhys nods, his eyes welling up with the tears that he had choked back, along with his strangled sobs that finally come out, and the expression on Jack’s face at that moment tears at Rhys’s heart, because he doesn’t care, he really, really doesn’t care. He knows that Jack is bad for him, he knows it, because Vaughn had said it so many times before, but Rhys was always loyal, always far too trusting of Jack, and because Jack knew this, he kept pushing Rhys, daring him to leave him. Jack hoped that Rhys would even try it, because he knew that eventually, he would, and when he did, he’d wrap his hands around his pretty little throat and strangle him.

 

“ _Words_ ,” Jack says, and his voice is cold as ice, and Rhys seems to be the one that cracked it this time. He’s not going to wait all day, Rhys’s mind registers that thought, and he suddenly looks up at him, the tears beginning to dry up now, and Jack huffs and places his hand on his pistol again, and Rhys straightens himself up.

 

“I… I do.”

 

“This is what happens when you talk to the wrong people, Rhysie.”

 

He’s dead. _He’s so fucking dead_ , and he knows it, and that’s why he’s shaking now. Jack notices it, and he steps over to him, kicking the lifeless body out of the way and pulls him into his embrace that could have been called ‘sweet’, except it wasn’t, especially not when Jack was plotting. Jack looks him in the eyes and then his hands are at his throat, all in one motion, and he’s squeezing as hard as he can, sending Rhys into a state of falsified euphoria because there’s no way that this is love, but he feels like it is. Handsome Jack loves him, even if he’s bad for him, and he knows that that’s the reason that the person on the ground is dead. Because he loves him, and that guy was a huge jerk, but he listened to Rhys’s story. Jack hated it, but, by god, Rhys was his, and his alone. He wouldn’t have any outside influences intruding in their relationships anymore.

 

Oh yes, Jack does love him, and Rhys knows it when they get home and Jack’s got him down on the bed with his hands at his throat again, with Rhys clawing at him with his human arm and leaving marks, because that’s what happens when lovers make love, they hurt each other. That’s what Jack’s told him, at least, but everyone else seems to have a different opinion. They don’t matter anyway, because Jack’s the only person that he’ll ever need. Jack’s cock is pounding inside of him over and over in a fury and Rhys is trying to cry out but he just can’t because Jack’s hands are too tight at his throat, He imagines that he’s done for when his vision becomes blurry, but the older man finally stops everything that he’s doing and looks at him. Just _looks_. Just like before, just like when things were _okay_ between them. Rhys pants, trying his best to catch his breath, and Jack smiles, leaning down and licking a tear from his cheek before he sets back at a slow pace that makes Rhys mewl softly, and now Jack’s at his ear, whispering to him, telling him all of the things that makes him _perfect_ and so right for him, telling him all of the dirty things that he’s going to _do_ to him.

 

Rhys cums, with a cry, and Jack is shushing him as he begins to move again, much rougher and much faster than before. “God damn, how are you still this tight?” Jack grunts out, hips plowing into Rhys’s hard, his fingers digging bruises into his sensitive skin. Rhys is trying to move with Jack, but he can’t, his body is sore and tired, and he _wants_ to stop, but he wouldn’t dare say that to Jack, because Jack’s got that look again, and it’s the same look he gets when he’s just killed a bunch of people. Relief, maybe? Overstimulation? Who really knew with Jack?

 

“Fuck, Jack-- _please--_ ” Rhys is trying to plead for him to stop, but it’s hard to say anything, because Jack is still talking, still pushing him to his limit, and then, finally, as if some god out there had answered him, Jack finally ceases his movements and pulls out of Rhys with an embarrassingly loud _pop_.

 

“So, uh,” Jack begins, and he’s got that tone that Rhys absolutely hates, the one where he’s probably going to hurt him somehow, “hey, what were ya thinking about when I was fucking your brains out, huh? I could tell, Rhysie, I can read your _mind_.”

 

He’s _pissed_ , and Rhys knows what’s next, because Jack doesn’t give him any time to respond, just sends his fist flying and hits Rhys right in the nose, and his eyes watered up again, and the tears came. Jack looks amused, and grabs him by the hair as he shoves him down onto the mattress again, and Rhys begins to sputter apology after apology, and Jack cackles as he grabs Rhys’s face and turns it toward him.

 

“You’ve got about a second to tell me, baby,” the older man’s voice is dripping with his own amusement and he actually sounds excited. Rhys tries to say something, but he’s quickly met with those familiar hands around his throat again, squeezing much too tight this time, and Rhys is flailing beneath him, trying to push him off of him, and then, with some kind of move of courage, Rhys punches Jack.

 

Rhys punches Handsome Jack, right in the face, but Jack doesn’t let go of his throat, and the older man looks absolutely scary now, baring teeth and all, as he begins to really, _really_ push down on Rhys’s windpipe.

 

“A shame, really, Rhysie,” he’s gritting the words at him as his vision’s becoming dark and his arms have stopped trying to fight Jack now, both robotic and human outstretched on the bed as he tried his best not to register what was really going on here. “Damn, you really have to go and hit me in the face like that?” He leans down, and his hands have loosened their grip, even if just a little. “After all I’ve done for you, you ungrateful little _shit_?” He’s in his face now, right on top of him. “You’re all the same, but ya know what?” He’s dangerously close to his lips now, and he’s almost coming undone. He knows he’s disgusting, he knows he shouldn’t get off on this. “No one leaves me, Rhysie. You think I don’t know about your little _escape plan_ with Vaughn and the others?”

 

He knew what Vaughn and Rhys had talked about. Rhys’s heart was thumping louder than ever, and Jack took note of it as he ran his tongue along Rhys’s ear. “I’m gonna fucking kill them, baby,” his voice is low, but Rhys can hear him loud and clear. “They can’t have you, Rhysie. I love you, and you should know that.” A soft nibble of his earlobe. “They don’t love you like I do, baby. They can’t _kiss_ you, _touch_ you, or _fuck_ you like I do.”

 

And Rhys looks into his eyes as Jack sits up again, finally freeing his throat completely. Rhys opens his mouth to speak, but no words form immediately. He tries again, and oh, god, it hurts his throat every time a word comes out, but he says it anyway, because he _does_ love Jack, and he cares about him. “I’m sorry, I’ll never leave you, Jack.”

 

“Mm, that’s what I thought, kiddo. Now, lay here for a while, think about what you’ve done, and if I catch ya talkin’ to Vaughn or any of your other buddies, I’ll kill ‘em.”

 

Rhys does as he’s told, and he lays there, in their bed, thinking about everything that had just happened. It’s not long before he drifts off to sleep, and when he finally wakes up, he notices that Jack’s standing there, watching him, waiting for him to do something, and Rhys doesn’t quite know what it is.

 

“They’re all dead, Rhysie.”

 

He starts crying, and now he knows that he’s most definitely alone. But Jack is there, and he always will be. Jack walks over to him and now he’s actually petting him, for a change. “Before you ask, it wasn’t me. Some freak accident in the caravan or something.”

 

He’s lying. Rhys _knows_ he’s lying, because Jack’s got blood on his hands. They stay like this for a while, Jack holding Rhys throughout the night, because Rhys is a mess, and Jack coos at him that he’s his and Rhys responds with multiple _yeses_ and several variations of _I’m yours_. The blood on his hands is getting all over Rhys, but Rhys wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t dare say anything about it, because he knew what would come from it, and the phantom touches to his throat weren’t really helping him much.

 

Jack loves Rhys, and he wouldn’t let him leave him for the world.


	2. lithium

Falsified apologies creep out of his mouth and wrap around the other male’s head as if it were nothing, and Handsome Jack congratulates himself on being great at what he does, because he does this to help him, not to hurt him, and Rhys knows that. He should know that, anyway. He cares about him enough to want to protect him from his so-called friends, they don’t know anything. Over and over, his words like honey and sugar, pet names drizzled all over, as the  _ baby _ s,  _ sweetheart _ s,  _ honey _ s are hummed into his ears while he holds him. It’s all he can do to keep Rhys right  _ there  _ and not have him leave him. He won’t let him, there’s just no way that he’s going to leave.  _ No one leaves _ .

Rhys’s mind is blank, and he knows that somehow, this is all his fault, but he can’t help but feel somewhat happy about the way that Jack whispers to him, telling him how much he cares, how much he loves him. He feels the same way, but he couldn’t begin to speak, because Jack’s hands are too close to his throat for comfort, and there’s just  _ something  _ that triggers a spark inside of Rhys to have him start panicking, and when he does, it isn’t long before Jack’s got him laying down on the bed with him, again, both facing each other. The older man brushes strands of hair that have gotten just a bit too long out of his face as he places a soft kiss on his cheek, and that’s when Rhys wonders how Jack can change his demeanor so quickly. It’s scary to think about, if he’s being honest with himself.

It doesn’t surprise Jack at all when Rhys leans up and kisses him. He gives Rhys a smile, and then begins to stroke his face gently, and it’s almost foreign to Rhys, but the connotations to the feeling make him feel dizzy. He’s not sure of what he should feel, or if he should feel anything at all. Jack makes a point to tell him how much he cares, though the laugh that comes out afterwards is an indication that it was a complete lie. He just doesn’t want Rhys to leave him, and Rhys stares at him for a moment, while Jack begins to yawn. He doesn’t know what’s worse: the feeling that he shouldn’t care about Jack or the feeling that he cares far too much, but Jack can’t be bothered with the feelings.

Adrenaline slowly takes it’s toll on him, and Jack sighs contently as he pulls Rhys close to his chest and kisses him. Now Rhys was safe, safe from those bandits and that number crunching best friend of his. No one could take Rhys away from him now. Rhys was his, and his alone. He holds him closer now, and the younger male closes his eyes, hoping for a peaceful night’s sleep. Jack leans up for a moment and throws his vest and jacket onto the floor before finally settling into a sleeping position, with Rhys in his arms. His eyelids are heavy for once, and before he finally nods off, he manages to mumble something.

“Don’t leave, Rhysie.”

As if he could ever leave him.

Rhys is struggling to speak, his throat still hurting from earlier that evening. But he tries his hardest, even if Jack is almost asleep, because he knows that that’s what Jack wants to hear, because that’s how he really  _ feels _ . He croaks out an I love you and several other promises that he’s not going to leave Jack, because he’s not. He loves him, and he knows that Jack loves him back, even if it is in his own special way. Jack mumbles something that Rhys can’t quite hear, but he’s sure that Jack’s about to fall asleep because his grip on him has loosened significantly.

 

Rhys is fighting his own emotions, and it’s  _ painful _ .

Once Jack is asleep for a good while, Rhys closes his eyes and tries to forget what happened. He forgets, because it’s only natural for him to do that now. He just wishes that Jack would trust him a bit more, but there’s just something that makes him untrustable, he figures. He watches the steady rise and fall of the older man’s chest as he sleeps, and there’s something comforting about it, but he’s not sure what. Rhys finally decides to close his eyes and take rest as well. It had been a hell of a day. It was early, but it didn’t mean anything to him. He was always keeping odd hours these days after moving in with Jack. He half expected for Jack to be an all night kind of person, but it was a surprise when he found out how many naps Jack actually took during the day.

_ How long has it been now?  _ Rhys’s eyes flutter open at the thought. He used to be so much different. He used to be able to actually say  _ no  _ to him, and he would actually  _ listen  _ if  _ he  _ thought that he was being overbearing. He didn’t know when it had changed for them and how quickly it must have, because he can still remember when he could go to work normally and not get  _ pampered _ , if that was even the word for …  _ whatever  _ this is. He imagines that it’s been about a year or so, he doesn’t keep up with days anymore, because this is an absolute nightmare, but to Rhys, this is a fever dream, something surreal, and Jack is his hero, will always be his hero, because Jack says so. Rhys thinks that too, but when hands are at his throat and he’s clawing at Jack’s arms to try and stop him, he wonders if he should stop idolizing him, but his thoughts always seem to change when he hears Jack tell him that he loves him.

Even if all it is is a fake-out.

The older man stirs a bit and then he wakes up, and Rhys’s eyes immediately fall closed, and he hopes that Jack didn’t notice, but Jack notices  _ everything _ . He moves from his position next to Rhys and gets up off of the bed and saunters toward his dresser, pulling out his clothing and heading for the bathroom. Rhys supposed that he hadn’t really paid much attention, because he would have said something about going to shower to him, had he known he was awake. It was fine, though, because Rhys enjoyed the time alone as much as he enjoyed the time with him.

Jack steps into the bathroom, a spacious little getaway that he was used to using every now and then, and especially now, when he felt like really making himself think about what had happened. What he had  _ done _ , and how  _ his _ Rhysie was never going to leave him. He was going to  _ stay _ , like the good boy that he was, because Jack was good to Rhys. He gave him everything he wanted, and even more than that. He turns the faucet on and adjusts the water to his liking before he switches it to shower mode when he steps in. The water runs over his skin, and he watches as it drips down his arm slowly, his thoughts on Rhys, and what he’s going to do if he tries to leave him. He’s just like the others, he will leave. Jack exhales slowly before he runs his fingers over his face, something that had been foreign to him for a while now, and he trails his fingers down to his neck and pauses. He couldn’t recall ever killing someone’s entire pool of loved ones before. It was invigorating, to say the least.

Sometimes, Jack wonders if he’s doing just a little too much, but quickly brushes it off with a small laugh, because of course,  _ he’s right _ , and he’s doing this for  _ him _ . It’s in Rhys’s best interest to stay away from people that have nothing to do with their relationship, anyway. No need for outside judgements, after all. He thinks about the look on Rhys’s face before, he was so scared, so, so worried about whether or not Jack was going to kill him, and that’s when he looks at his wrists and arms again, and notes all of the scratches and scars that had come from strangling people over the years. He gives himself a smile as he thinks about the looks on  _ their  _ faces too, especially Fiona’s. She looked the most terrified of them all, and to think, they’d never seen him coming. Though, now, he was Rhys’s only friend, and now Rhys would have to come to  _ him  _ to talk about anything at all. Just as it should be, he thinks. 

After his shower, he leaves the bathroom and stares at the clock, and it’s only ten. Jack walks over to the bed and lays down next to Rhys, the cool sheets doing wonders for his still-warm skin. Rhys stirs and looks up at Jack, who’s already got his eyes on him. It almost startles Rhys,  _ almost _ . Jack chuckles, because he most definitely caught Rhys’s expression. He adjust himself so that he’s facing Rhys, and Rhys is facing him. “You been to sleep yet, buttercup?”

Rhys shakes his head and groans out a  _ no  _ in response. Jack leans over, close to him, and Rhys notices his eyes on his, focusing, as if he’s thinking about something, or as if he’s trying to decode him. The older man leans forward and places a kiss to his temple, right where his port is, and it makes Rhys  _ shudder _ . He does it again and again, and Rhys keeps on shivering, chill bumps on his skin. He feels like he’s going to pass out at any moment, because it’s such an uncomfortable, weird feeling, but at the same time, it feels so  _ good _ , it makes him remember how it was when he first met Jack when he installed the I.D. drive into his systems. He wasn’t sure of why Jack liked to mess with his port, but it was so different and it felt so intimate, that he never protested.

Jack’s hand sneaks it’s way to Rhys’s hip, and it settles there for a moment, while he places kisses to his port at a steady pace. Rhys leans into the touch, because it actually feels real, like he could actually care about Rhys, and Rhys is a sucker, and he always has been for Jack. Jack knows this, and he takes extra care to poke and prod at every little weakness that he can find, because he knows how to appeal to Rhys’s emotions, he knows how to get underneath his  _ skin _ . The younger male sucks in a breath as Jack runs his fingers along his hip, then right to his abdomen, ghosting fingers over the hem of the sweatpants that he’d been wearing. Rhys shivers, and he pushes his hips toward Jack, and Jack accepts the invitation, pulling off the sweats with almost no effort.

Rhys is on his back now, with Jack hovering above the most sensitive part of his body, and Rhys quietly releases a sigh, and Jack teases him, kissing his thighs and ghosting his lips over where Rhys so desperately wants him to touch. Jack isn’t neglecting him, not this time, and Rhys swears that this is love, and that Jack never hurt him, he wouldn’t do that, he’s only looking out for his best interest. He feels his tongue dip  _ in  _ and there’s nothing more that Rhys can do but let out small moans as he’s stroked by Jack’s skilled tongue, his legs lifted over the older man’s shoulders and his thighs apart, so willing to let Jack in.

And Jack doesn’t stop flicking his tongue against the sensitive little bundle of nerves, and Rhys doesn’t stop moaning and running his fingers through Jack’s hair. He moves against Jack now, and Jack allows him to, and Rhys wonders what’s going through Jack’s head as he pushes a finger inside of him, making Rhys cry out. He hadn’t been this gentle in a long time, and Rhys knows that it’s a part of Jack’s plan, but he wasn’t going to leave, so he surrenders himself completely to Jack, who’s eating him out in earnest now, looking up at the younger male every now and then, and it made Rhys’s heart skip a beat. Jack was everything,  _ everything  _ to him. The older man keeps on talking and  _ talking _ , and Rhys can’t really understand because he’s saying it between kissing his warmth and looking up at him, it’s driving Rhys wild.

“ _ Aaaah _ ,  _ ahh _ ,  _ J-Jack _ …” Rhys can’t seem to get the words out, his throat still hurts, but Jack doesn’t stop, and Rhys wills himself to keep on speaking, “I- I love you, Jack.”

Jack doesn’t respond, but the sudden rapid flicking of his tongue at his clit is enough to tell Rhys that he at least heard him. Rhys’s throat is probably going to get better soon, and when it does, he’ll try and tell Jack how he really feels, but for now, he can only hope that his body shaking as hard as it is won’t make him pass out, because Jack has his legs pinned down to the bed now, his hands on his thighs in a vicegrip. And just as Rhys begins to feel the heat pool at his stomach, Jack stops and looks up at him, wiping his mouth with one hand and then licking it off. The sight was a bit too erotic for Rhys, who covered his eyes with his arm while reaching up and trying to  _ touch  _ Jack with the other, who chuckles at his attempt.

“I’m not going to leave.”

Jack quirks an eyebrow at the rasp of Rhys’s voice, in contrast with the soothing statement. He smiles at him then, even though it’s fake,  _ it’s so, so fake _ , but he does it, because he knows Rhys like the back of his hand. He knows that one day, he’ll find himself again, for some reason, and he’ll leave. But for now, Jack was determined to keep him with him. He was his, and only his. He’s on his knees, looking down at Rhys on the bed, his legs still spread, and he can almost read Rhys’s mind, because he chuckles and leans over him, “I know you won’t, cupcake.”

And now, he’s right above him, the only thing he’s wearing is his boxers, and Rhys has his arms around his neck, holding him in place while he  _ chews  _ on Rhys’s neck. It was painful, uncomfortable, and Rhys was pretty sure that he was bleeding. His eyes flutter closed, because he feels himself being dragged back into that euphoria that he felt when things were still okay, when things between them weren’t so bad. And Rhys’s hero worship of Jack hadn’t gone away, not completely, and that’s when he makes the mistake of calling out for Jack, because at his neck, Jack keeps a pace of chewing and sucking, and he stops when Rhys calls him his  _ hero _ . Of course he was, of course, because Handsome Jack was everyone’s hero.

But Jack knows that Rhys is different, when Rhys shows some nerve and tells him to use his fingers. He's impressed with him, and pleased all the same. Jack leans dangerously close to his ear and whispers to him, his voice low, “You want me to fuck your little cunt with my fingers, puddin’?” A moan and a thrust of Rhys's hips against his leg is more than enough of a yes for him, and he moves to a more comfortable position, with his fingers working against Rhys's cunt, rubbing his clit in circular movements as he continued whispering into the younger man's ear. Rhys held on to Jack's arm tightly as he felt himself getting closer and closer to his release, his teeth gritted and his robotic arm gripping the sheets as tightly as it could.

“Such a good boy,” Jack whispers, quickening his pace, and Rhys can feel himself about to cum. “You like when I do this for you, don't you? Keep making that face Rhysie, that's it, just keep on doing that.”

Rhys cums hard, shaking, his release all over Jack's hand. He pants a bit before turning to Jack, who's licking his juices off of his hand. Jack looks at him and his eyes aren't as cold as they had been. He leans over and kisses Rhys right on the lips, and Rhys is more than inviting, opening his mouth for Jack, who slips his tongue into his mouth slowly, letting Rhys taste himself. When Jack pulls away from Rhys, his hand is back at his clit, rubbing it gently, and Rhys, already sensitive, leans up into the touch. It’s far too much, but he keeps on letting it happen.

Jack's voice is like honey as he whispers, “You're soaking wet, kitten,” he leans toward Rhys’s neck and kisses it. “You want my cock, don't you, Rhysie, baby?” And Rhys says  _ yes _ , over and over, and it’s beginning to drive Jack wild, the way that he can bend and break Rhys into whatever he wants. Before too long, Jack is inside of him, his cock twitching at the feeling of Rhys’s wetness that only seemed to be pulling him in  _ harder _ , pulling him in  _ deeper _ . He pushes in hard and Rhys cries out, his arms hooked around Jack’s neck as if he were holding on for dear life, and Jack has his arms around Rhys, too, and it could almost be called sweet, if it wasn’t about who it was, because Jack wasn’t  _ sweet _ , nothing was sweet about him, but his words, those deceitful  _ words _ , were definitely sweet.

They stay like this for a while, and Jack coos at Rhys that he’s  _ his _ , he’s  _ all his _ , and Rhys agrees with him, reassures him that he won’t be leaving Jack, not ever, and Jack is absolutely relishing in it, kissing at Rhys’s port over and over. Jack is close, expletives and the dirtiest of words falling from his lips, and Rhys is taking it all in, his mind relaxing and his whole body seeming to open for Jack. Though the words might be a lie, it feels so good to hear them coming from Rhys’s mouth. One, two, three kisses to his port, and an  _ I love you _ into his ear, and Rhys is sent over the edge, and Jack isn’t long behind him.

It almost sounded sincere, and if Rhys didn’t know Jack as well as he did, he would say that it was. 


	3. don't take my sunshine away

There’s no straight answer when confronting him about anything, and Rhys figures this out quickly, his mind is still drawing all sorts of conclusions. Maybe it’s not in the contract, maybe the contract doesn’t exist at all, and maybe, just maybe, Rhys is feeling like it’s all his fault again, and that at any moment, Jack is going to come around the corner and take him back to their home, their sad, sad,  _ broken  _ home. He looks up at the doppelganger, his eyes wide, and the other man is confused, unsure of what he’s supposed to do, but that’s when Rhys stands up and looks the other man in the eyes. He’s like Jack, but he’s  _ not _ . The snarl and the strange way that he looks at Rhys isn’t there, and in it’s place is just a look of confusion, and Rhys apologizes to the doppelganger for confusing him with Jack.

“Hey, uh, don’t be sorry, kiddo,” he says, and he sounds just like him. Rhys looks at him for a moment, and he notices that he’s becoming uneasy about it, and that’s when he speaks again, and this time, he hopes to get an answer.

“Who are you?” His voice is quiet, so quiet, like he’s trying to keep from waking up someone who was sleeping. The doppelganger sighs and shrugs his shoulders, and then places his hands firmly on Rhys’s shoulders, his faux heterochromatic eyes searching Rhys’s for something, something he’s not exactly sure of, but it’s there, because he seems to have an idea.

“I can’t tell you my name, but call me Jack,” and when he says the name that Rhys is trying so hard to get away from, he shakes his head, and Rhys calms down from the sudden panic in his gut, and he concludes quickly that he must have been the actual doppelganger, the one that Jack held the highest. He was  _ Timothy _ . Rhys is smiling at him, though it’s weak, and Timothy smiles back at him, humming gently as Rhys seems to calm down.

“Would you mind if I just… stayed here, with you?” The question comes out in sputters, and Rhys is actually nervous to ask these kinds of questions, and especially to the face of the person that he was so desperately trying to get away from. Timothy doesn’t seem to mind that Rhys decides to stay at his house, and he, in fact, welcomes it, because he’s lonely, too, and they’re obviously both lost souls that managed to seek each other out, at least, that’s what Timothy thinks about it. The two of them walk into the cozy apartment, and Rhys had never felt so invited in his life, the smell was completely different than he was used to, and welcoming. He passes by a mirror and looks at it, and he can’t believe how far he’s come.

Timothy seems to be a laid back man, Rhys figures, and he walks into the small kitchen space, where Timothy is pulling frozen dinners out of the freezer. He looks over at Rhys and laughs a bit as he notices a look of worry wash over the younger man’s features. “Oh, oh, yeah, this is dinner, I’m sorry, I don’t really have time to go out to the store or anything, but just… bear with me, okay?”

And there’s something about the tone in Timothy’s voice, the sincerity, the way that he hurriedly tries to prepare things for him, and the small panic that makes Rhys want to know more about him, and just what it was that made him who he was. He didn’t know much about him other than his name, and it just wasn’t fair for him, because he seemed to be a genuinely good man. Rhys hums a yes in response, and Timothy sighs in relief, just as the younger man comes to stand beside him. “So, you’re Rhys,” he says, and it’s almost a relief to not hear himself being called  _ Rhysie _ . “You look a bit different than I expected.”  _ Like a trainwreck _ , he wants to say, but he’s not going to go and hurt the younger man’s feelings any more than they so obviously had been before.

Rhys nodded, a soft sigh passing his lips, “Yeah, I don’t look like much right now, but I feel like I really have won, at least a bit.” Timothy smiles at that, watching as Rhys undoes the packaging on his dinner. Rhys scolds himself for being such a  _ liar _ , and he can’t help but see Timothy as a watered down Jack, because he’s essentially that.

“Well, you mostly have, save for my face,” Timothy replies, sighing. “Sorry about that, by the way, you don't even have to look at me if you don't want to.”

Rhys shakes his head, “It's fine, really. I don't really mind.”  _ Yes he does. _

And he wants to go back home.

The two of them eat their dinners in an awkward silence, and Timothy is the first to speak when he collects the dishes from Rhys's side of the small table, “Student loans, huh? That's how I got into this mess. You would've figured that I could get out of this by now, but nah. Contact is up in a few years anyway.”

Rhys gasps, his eyes widening, “You signed up for this because of student loans?” That entire idea seemed terrible to him, having to do so much work and actually play the role as Jack? No thanks, he'd rather not do that, thank you. Timothy was a brave man, too, from the looks of things.

“Well, I didn't actually know that I was gonna have to get surgery and all of that, but essentially, yes,” Timothy replies, washing the few dishes that were used, looking over his shoulder at Rhys, who’s got his eyes on Timothy the whole time, and that’s when the older man sighs and turns the faucet off, drying his hands on a towel. “I promise, everything’s fine, nothing’s going to get you here, okay?”

Rhys nods, and he tries to dismiss the thoughts of Jack, the thoughts that he will show up, that he will grab him by the throat, take him back to his home and continue where they left off. And Rhys hates the look that Timothy’s giving him, because he’s pretty sure that it’s pity, and he doesn’t want that, he wants a way  _ out _ , an  _ escape _ , but he probably doesn’t mean that, either, because his fingers are at his throat, tracing the bruises that adorn it. He’s a walking contradiction, and he knows that he is, and he can’t seem to get his mind off of the thought that he may actually  _ want  _ Jack to show up.

“Hey, stop doing that, Rhys.”

Timothy’s voice snaps him right back into reality, and he’s huffing and it’s hard for him to breathe, just thinking about Jack being angry at him makes him nervous. Timothy coaches Rhys, breathe in slowly, then out slowly, and Rhys does as he’s told, and he tries to tell him that it’s not because Timothy has Jack’s face. A hand comes to Rhys’s shoulder, massaging it gently, and Timothy notices the marks that Jack’s left all over him. He’s a monster, he thinks, and Rhys, subconsciously moans into the touch when his fingers are over another concealed bruise, and it actually shocks Timothy, but he doesn’t say anything. He didn’t know how long Rhys had been living like this, but it was long enough for Rhys to consider it  _ normal _ . That in itself was pretty sad, to Timothy, and he thought that  _ he  _ had it bad. And the words that seemed to fall so effortlessly out of Rhys’s mouth spilled out into the open managed to make Timothy uneasy.

“I want to go home,” Rhys says softly, looking Timothy in the eyes, his own glassy. It looks like he’s about to cry again, and Timothy sighs, because he has no say so in the matter at all, and if it weren’t for Jack, he wouldn’t have met Rhys, wouldn’t have found him outside, in the rain, and probably wouldn’t have brought him into his apartment. He was a tool to Jack, too, but he was obviously not as much of one as Rhys was.

Timothy swallows thickly and looks at Rhys, his hands unsteady as he reaches out to him, “I... “

“I know, it’s stupid,” Rhys says, “I know, okay? Vaughn and everyone else, and especially Fiona, has always said that I shouldn’t, but I  _ love  _ Jack, he makes me happy.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, I’m just… shocked, is all,” Timothy replies, dropping the hand that he had offered to Rhys. He grabs his jacket and pulls it on, and something in Rhys wants to know more about him, but he knows that it’s too dangerous to get close to him. He walks toward Rhys again and helps him up from the chair. He fiddles around with something, probably a recording device of some sort, and Rhys  _ knew  _ that that was there somehow, because he knew Jack. Timothy smiles at him, “Off the record, kiddo, if you need a place to run, come here first, okay?” He flips the recording device back on before it becomes noticeable that he’d turned it off himself, giving Rhys no time to answer.

A safe place to go seems like heaven to Rhys, but he knew that Jack would find him. But for the time being, he would remember Timothy as his safe haven, that just so happened to have Jack’s face. 


	4. tumbling dow

If there was one thing that Jack could have predicted for them, it wouldn’t have been this. Was there ever really a  _ them  _ in the first place? He often wondered about that, and he wondered how long it’d been since he’d seen genuine happiness on Rhys’s face, not that it mattered, because for some reason, Rhys seemed to be stubborn... and that was the exact word that he’d been looking for. Rhys was stubborn. Jack crossed his arms, dotted the statement and signed it. That was that. He was stubborn.

He couldn't see it, but he was only trying to protect him. Getting involved with those  _ bandits  _ would do nothing but hurt him, and why he couldn’t see that was beyond Jack. The more and more he watched from the sidelines the more furious it made him. He was doing Rhys a huge favor by getting rid of them, and to be fair, he  _ did  _ give him the chance to leave them all in the dust himself, it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t take it. He wanted him to himself, and what made that so bad? He could practically hear the chastising voice of Vaughn toward Rhys, telling him that he wasn’t good for him, telling him that he needed to leave, and neither of them had a clue that Jack was still able to know everything that was going on.

Yeah, Rhys was stubborn. He even said no to Vaughn when he offered him a way out, but for Rhys to even consider it was just… unforgivable.

It took a lot to get him to the point of saying that he loved Rhys, but he had said it a few times now, and he didn’t mean it. It was a lie, or was it? Jack wasn’t too sure of himself anymore, and his eyes hurt. He looks at the clock beside him on the bedside table, and he notes with a groan that it’s just after midnight. He’d tucked in early the night before, and now, he was going to regret it. He groans, and he looks off to the side, and for a moment, his heart jumps, because Rhys isn’t in the bed with him. That’s the first step, to realize what’s missing, and to find it. He jumps out of the bed, the sudden adrenaline pumping through his body, and he practically  _ runs _ . He doesn’t know where he’s going, but he  _ runs _ .

And the sudden noise scares Rhys, who’s watching Jack run into the kitchen, and Rhys is caught red-handed, with his carton of lactose-free ice cream. Jack  _ stares _ , because he can’t believe himself. He just ran and.... he’s greeted with the sight of Rhys looking startled, with the spoonful of ice cream hanging on the spoon. Rhys is still staring at him, startled, and he places the spoon into the carton and straightens his shoulders. “Jack…? What’s wrong?”

Jack swallows and walks over to Rhys, running a hand through his hair. There’s no real point in lying, especially not after midnight when you get caught running down the stairs and into the kitchen. “I thought you left. I thought…” And for once, Jack was speechless, and he had a splitting headache on top of it all. Rhys nods, and he takes his ice cream to the freezer and shuts it. He understands that Jack isn’t good with his own emotions, and that’s alright.

Rhys hugs Jack, and it’s the first time in a while that he’s actually hugged him so tightly, so closely, and Jack hesitates for a moment, but he hugs back, and he squeezes Rhys. It’s a moment that’s so small, but it means so much, and for Jack, it was making him a bit more emotional than he’d like to admit. And so he keeps his mouth shut, and he swears that he’ll keep Rhys safe. That’s the least he could do. And that’s him being  _ nice _ .

It’s Rhys that opens his mouth first, and he’s hugging Jack so tightly that he feels like he might die. He whispers, quietly, and just loud enough for Jack to hear him, “I wouldn’t leave, how many times do I need to tell you that?” And there’s something about the statement that, for once, makes sense to him in the best way, and he smiles and kisses Rhys’s neck as he whispers back to him, his voice intense and happy at the same time, “Don’t ever leave.”

Not like Rhys would ever plan on it, but he reassures Jack one more time, and Jack is  _ beaming _ . Rhys takes note of it and repeats it again, and he truly means it, because this is  _ Jack _ , and this is everything he’s ever wanted, and Jack lifts him up and carries him to their bed, and he’s being gentle, and Rhys absolutely loves it. Jack leans over him, placing kisses to the side of his neck, and Rhys kisses his neck too, and for a moment, it feels just like love, and it feels like there’s nothing wrong with it, and nothing is wrong with them.

Jack whispers softly against Rhys’s hair, taking in the scent of it, and Rhys can’t quite hear what he’s mumbling, but he’s enamored with the feelings that he’s having now, and Jack leans down and kisses his ear, “That means I love you, ya know, just in case ya missed it.”

And Rhys knows that Jack won’t repeat it in the morning, or anytime in the near future, but he knows that he means it, and he knows that this is real. He knows that it is, and it’s okay if it’s not, because he can play up the lie if he likes, and Jack is more than willing to let him, if only to see that stupid  _ smile  _ on his face, because that’s what he wanted to see, and it’s right  _ there _ . Rhys looks up at Jack, and he places a finger on his cheek and trails it to the clip that holds the mask on his face, and Jack feels his heart jump because it’s too much, too intimate, and then he sighs and lets himself breathe for a moment, because this is Rhys, and the kid probably deserves a little more than he gets. So he lets Rhys take the mask off, occasional warning startling him. He eventually takes the mask off, and he kisses Jack, his real lips, and it feels so  _ right _ .

Jack leans into the kiss more, and he laces his fingers with Rhys’s, and they practically melt into each other, each movement that they make fluid and in sync. Rhys feels like he could stay like this forever, and when he speaks of it, Jack tells him that he can, and he kisses down Rhys’s neck and on to his chest, where he stops to admire him, and the younger male hasn’t seen this side of Jack before.

“You’re beautiful, pumpkin.”

If he wasn’t afraid of Jack actually  _ killing  _ him, Rhys probably would have followed up to that by telling him that he thought that Jack looked better with the mask off. He gasps when a mouth is on his chest, sucking and nibbling at all of the right places, and it gives Rhys just enough stimulation to make him release a small moan. Jack looks up at him and gives his chest a gentle squeeze, “You like that? Want me to do it again?” And Rhys nods, because it feels so good, and Jack’s hands are so big, but they feel so right on his body. He feels safe with him, and he knows that it’s a stretch to say that, but it’s true to him. Jack squeezes and kneads at his chest, watching his reactions, and he smirks when Rhys finally moans again.

Rhys feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest at any moment, and he looks at Jack and whispers, “Jack, please, I want to kiss you.” And that's not the request that Jack was expecting, but he obliges, leaning up, his elbows on either side of Rhys's head, and he kisses him. It's slow and everything that Rhys wanted, his eyes flutter shut, and he's the first to use his tongue, slowly sliding against Jack's own, and before Rhys knows it, Jack is biting down on his tongue gently. Rhys half-yelps before his tongue retreats to his mouth in shock.

Jack smiles at the reaction and licks his lips, staring down at Rhys, earning a blush from him. And it’s not long before Jack is between Rhys’s legs again, pushing them open and pinning them to the bed while he kisses and nibbles at his thighs, and it’s driving him wild. Rhys lets out a long sigh, his fingers curling into their sheets as Jack finally,  _ finally _ , puts his tongue to work on his most sensitive area, and Rhys moves his hips up, moving against Jack’s tongue. Jack looks up at him, watching as the steady rise and fall of Rhys’s stomach moves in time with the way that he moves on Jack’s tongue.

Jack pulls away for a moment, kissing Rhys’s hip bone, “Eager tonight, huh, kitten?” And Rhys nods his head, pushing his fingers through Jack’s hair, trying with no luck to get him to just go back to what he was doing. “You taste good,” Jack says, pushing Rhys’s folds open, and Rhys almost thought that he was admiring him, and the thought alone made him shiver. Jack moves his tongue, flicking against Rhys’s clit gently as he moves his finger to his entrance, circling it slowly, teasingly. He pushes it in, slowly, and Rhys wishes that he’d just  _ hurry up _ , and he pushes himself down onto his finger, and it earns a chuckle from Jack, who’s enjoying this far too much.

Soon, Jack is fucking him with his fingers, and it’s too much for him, they’re too big, and he mewls with every push in, and he looks at Jack, who’s moved up to stare directly into his face, while he tells him how much of a dirty little  _ slut  _ he is, taking his fingers like that. Rhys has an arm hooked around the older man’s neck, his eyes closed, and his other hand practically pulling the sheets  _ off  _ of the bed. Jack knows that Rhys won’t be able to take much more, his legs are shaking far too much, and he leans closer to Rhys’s ear, his breath tickling it, “Hey, babe, tell me what you want.” He places a kiss right below his ear and Rhys can only moan at the feeling, because all of this is just  _ too much _ .

“J-Jack, I want you to fuck me,” Rhys pants, his eyes still closed, and he’s squeezing them even tighter now as Jack pulls his fingers out of him, and Rhys can hear the lewd sounds of Jack sucking his juices off of his fingers. And then he feels Jack move, and he lets go of his neck, his eyes finally opening as Jack pushes his legs up and he positions himself right at his opening, the tip of his cock teasing him. Jack is looking down at him, and Rhys feels his heart beating faster as Jack moves his cock to rub his clit gently, and Rhys knows that his face must be all kinds of shades of red, because Jack stares at him as he finally pushes  _ in _ .

Jack leans down, his arms hooking around Rhys’s, as he pushes himself all the way in slowly, carefully, and Rhys has never felt anything like it. Jack is watching him again, and Rhys says those words again, “I’m not going to leave you, Jack.” And as if he’s right on time, Jack pulls out and pushes all the way in again, and Rhys moans, his arms immediately hooking around Jack’s neck, and the older man breathes into his ear for him to say it  _ again _ , and he does, over and over, and Jack doesn’t let up. Rhys is moving in time with Jack now, and Jack doesn’t think that he wants this to ever end, just the two of them, no one else to bother them, and they’re moving together for once. He hasn’t felt this way in  _ years _ , and it just makes him feel so alive.

And the next morning, as the sun rises, Jack looks down at Rhys, and what a mess he’s made of him and he laughs to himself, because he’s his, and he wouldn’t tell him, but he’s got him wrapped around his finger in his own strange way too.

He can live with the feeling, though.


	5. surround me and asphyxiate

Everything about him is rough, but there are times when Rhys wonders about that, too, because sometimes, the way that Jack runs his fingers through his hair is just a bit too  _ gentle  _ for him, and usually, it should be followed by him  _ pulling  _ at it, but lately, he doesn’t. Rhys knows why, and he knows that Jack knows that he knows, but it doesn’t change, not for a while, and not until Rhys swallows his anxiety about the whole situation and he decides to grab and snatch at Jack’s wrist a little  _ too  _ hard one day, because he wouldn’t  _ dare  _ to hit him, he just can’t find it in himself to do it. Jack looks at him, with wild eyes, and he promptly asks him what the  _ fuck  _ he’s doing, to which Rhys can only reply with a thick swallow, because he knows that Jack’s hands are going to be at his throat at any moment.

And he inhales sharply, right before Jack has him down on their kitchen floor, with his hands, as Rhys predicted, at his throat, but they aren’t tight,  _ yet _ . And Rhys knows that the kinds of touches that he craves from Jack are unhealthy and they’re not good for him, but he can’t help it. Any kind of touch from Jack is good, in his opinion. Sometimes, he wishes that he could go back to the time that Jack spit on him, and that,  _ that _ , was a good day at the office. He can’t think about it too much, because then, he thinks to Vaughn, and oh,  _ god _ , he knows that Vaughn didn’t deserve it.

“You’ve got balls of steel today, Rhysie,” Jack is practically yelling, and he squeezes as tightly as he can, and Rhys’s eyes are welling up with tears again, and that is exactly what Jack wants for him to do. That’s what he  _ wants _ , because Rhys is his, and he wants for Rhys to feel everything that he’s giving to him, the pain, the pleasure, and the sick and twisted love. Jack tries so hard to be  _ better  _ (he doesn’t) and Rhys has to fuck him up, somehow. He’s shaking Rhys now, and he asks him why he wants him to hurt him so badly, and Rhys can’t respond, so he lays there, on the cold tiles, and he gasps for air when Jack pulls one hand off of his neck, only to punch him right in the face. And he does it over, and over, and over again.

“Jack,” his voice comes out hoarsely, and he raises a hand to grab at the older man’s wrist, “please, let go. I’m sorry.” Jack laughs, and he shakes his head as he tells him that that’s a no-can-do, and that Rhys should have thought before he tried to grab him. And Rhys wonders how long they’ll be on the floor like this, maybe hours, maybe just a few more minutes.

“What are you thinking inside of that stupid head of yours?” Jack suddenly asks him, and Rhys can’t really say, because he’s ashamed of himself for thinking that Jack is looking pretty  _ handsome _ , no pun intended, on top of him, rage building in his heterochromatic eyes. And that’s when Rhys realizes that he is really,  _ really  _ fucked up. And as if Jack reads his mind, and Rhys figures that there’s still some part of him weirdly still in his system somewhere, so it’s entirely possible, Jack laughs and leans down, a breath away from Rhys’s lips as he speaks, “You’re such a gem, Rhysie. Never thought you’d actually get off on this kind of shit.”

“That’s funny,” Rhys is smiling, and  _ oh _ , Jack thinks he looks damn good smiling with his hand around his throat, “because I  _ know  _ that you do.” Jack smirks, and he pushes his thumb hard against his throat before taking it away again, and Rhys is still smiling. Jack chuckles, and he asks Rhys if he likes it, and Rhys admits that he does, because he can’t keep anything from the man, so why even bother? He’s in his brain, more than likely. And Jack repeats the process, and Rhys gasps again, and now he’s longing for much more than just the hand at his throat. Jack’s practically straddling him, so Rhys makes a bold move and pushes his hips up just enough for Jack to feel it, and his eyes widen at Rhys for making such a move, and he chuckles as he whispers to him, “Like I said, kiddo, balls of fucking  _ steel _ .”

And later, when Rhys is looking in the mirror at his reflection, he takes note of the black and purple coloring that his skin has from the bruises, and he reaches up and touches one gently. Jack doesn’t hold back when he hits, and he hits  _ hard _ . And as soon as he touches the cold towel to his face, Jack is standing in the doorway, propped up like some sort of movie star, and he’s smiling, probably admiring his work, and Rhys clears his throat, then speaks softly, “Hey, um, sorry… about this morning.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Jack says, and Rhys knows that Jack wants something, because he’s got that  _ look  _ on his face, “see, baby, I have an idea, and if you’ll let me run with it, I can forget all about you trying to claw my hand.”  _ That’s not what happened, and he knows it _ , but Rhys doesn’t protest, and if he were a cat, he knows that he’d have his ears standing at attention. And Jack chuckles a bit, and he walks into the bathroom, pinning Rhys against the sink’s counter, with the towel still pressed against his face. “I’m thinking, since you’re so, y’know,” and a hand trails up to his neck, tracing along a dark bruise, “ _ brave _ , I’ll give you one shot, and I want you to really use it,” and the more Jack talks to him and traces his fingers along his neck, the more shameful he becomes, because he can practically feel himself  _ dripping  _ when Jack presses a knee to his crotch. “I want  _ you  _ to really, really, try to hurt me, Rhysie.”

Rhys’s eyes are wide, and he can’t figure out why Jack is saying any of this. Jack is still smiling, and soon it becomes a laugh, and Rhys is mildly  _ concerned _ , and he should be, right? “What, you don’t wanna get me back, in some revenge thing? You don’t wanna have the chance to really kick my ass?”

And for some reason, he just… can’t. He can’t put his hands on Jack, but Jack takes the towel away and places Rhys’s hands to his neck. “Now,  _ press down _ .” And Rhys does as he’s told, but it makes him so damn uncomfortable, and the feeling of Jack’s neck beneath his hands is so  _ wrong _ , and it’s just terrible. And Jack grabs his wrists and pulls them away effortlessly. “Come on, Rhysie, why the hell don’t you listen?” He sounds annoyed, but there’s more curiosity in his voice than anything. And Rhys is quiet for a moment, with his wrists still in Jack’s hands, and he tells him, while he looks him straight in the eye, that he doesn’t want to hurt him. He loves him, and he can’t hurt him, and Jack sighs, releases his wrists, and turns away.

Rhys wonders if he did something wrong, and if Jack’s shoulders shaking are any indication, he probably did something very right, and then the laughter comes. “Come on to bed, sweetheart.” And it sounds like more of a threat than anything, but he follows the orders, just like he’s supposed to, and follows Jack into their bedroom, and he’s immediately thrown down onto the mattress, and those  _ hands  _ are right at his throat again, and Rhys doesn’t know how he’s become so far gone as to actually  _ enjoy  _ it when Jack is strangling him, but he feels so  _ alive  _ when the adrenaline is rushing through his body, and he isn’t surprised when Jack releases his throat in favor of getting the two of them undressed, and before Rhys has time to register it, because his mind is on the hand pressing down on his throat again, Jack is pushing  _ inside  _ of him, and Rhys is more than willing to spread his legs wider for him. And the other hand joins it’s match at Rhys’s throat, not pressing down hard enough to actually hurt him, but he’s pressing down enough.

“Holy fuck, baby,” Jack says, his thrusts powerful and sharp, and it’s driving Rhys crazy, “you’re soaking.” And Rhys assures him that it’s all for him, and that he’s his, and his body is his too, and Jack’s not letting up, and he fucks Rhys hard, and eventually, his hands become tighter around his throat the more that the two of them move in sync with each other, and Rhys is clawing at Jack’s arms, and Jack knows that he’s pushing Rhys’s limits, but this is for  _ him _ , and he wants Rhys to be able to handle more, and more. And eventually, just as Rhys is about to pass out, Jack lets go, and he leans down and kisses him, and Rhys’s mind and vision are hazy, but he tries to kiss him back, and he searches for Jack’s face, but he can’t find it, and suddenly, everything is dark, and the last thing he hears is Jack saying his name, over and over.

The next morning, Rhys wakes up, and he knows that it’s early, because the sun isn’t even out yet. Jack isn’t in the room, and he can’t recall much of the night before, but when he walks into the bathroom and sees the dark bruises on his neck, he remembers Jack’s hands vividly. He walks downstairs, into the kitchen, and he notices the back door open, and Jack is standing outside, smoking. Rhys has on one of his shirts, so he figures that Jack probably got scared that he really messed up, and at least, that’s what he really, really wants to think.

Jack turns around, and he quickly puts the cigarette out as he catches Rhys in his line of vision. He walks back inside and he hugs him, and it’s the first time in forever that he’s been hugged like that, and he hugs Jack, who’s hands are gently brushing against his back. There’s no apology, but that’s okay, because Rhys is content with just standing with him for now, and he whispers I love you to the older man, and he feels the hug get tighter, their bodies closer to each other now, and he won’t bring up the dampness that he feels at his shoulder while Jack kisses his neck over and over.


	6. don't know why it took so long to get back home

There are certain times that Rhys wishes that he could do something different, but then, somehow, Jack always manages to have him right back where he wants him, and even if he  _ did  _ leave, it wouldn’t be the same, and it wouldn’t be what he wanted. He wants Jack, plain and simple. He sighs and runs his human fingers through his hair, and he’s determined to finally cut it, because it’s getting way out of hand. He steps into the bathroom and locks the door, tiptoeing, and for some reason, this feels like sneaking around. He sighs at himself, cursing at nothing about how much he’s changed. And even appearance-wise, he’s gotten much paler, the bruises and marks all over his body seem to have permanent residence, and his face looks like shit. He’s still hot, he thinks, but the gashes and bruises on his face would dare to disagree with him.

Another sigh, and Rhys grabs the scissors off of the counter and begins to cut his hair, right back to it’s normal length, the length that it’s supposed to be, and he’s not too upset with the job that he’s done. Of course, Vaughn is usually the one to cut his hair, well… Vaughn  _ was _ . He misses him, he misses him desperately. Why didn’t he see it sooner? Why couldn’t he protect him? Vaughn didn’t deserve for any of this to happen to him. And that’s when Rhys lets the tears fall from his eyes, and they quickly become like raindrops on the counter, he grabs at his hair, and he’s in absolute misery.

His eyes focus on the ground, and he falls to his knees, and he feels like the least he could do is, well, pray. He doesn’t exactly believe in a god, but he at least wants to speak to Vaughn, and when he finally does, it’s almost like he can hear Vaughn, close to him, telling him that it’s alright, and it somehow comforts Rhys. It’s not enough though, because Vaughn is dead. He’s not going to come back, and Rhys knows that. He can’t help the pain in his chest when he hears a knock at the door, and his heart feels like it does a flip. It’s Jack, and he cleans up the mess and dries his face, wipes it off, all while he tells Jack to hang on a second. Once he looks presentable enough, he finally walks to the door and opens it up.

“Wow, Rhysie. You did a great job on that, looks like an amatuer hairdresser did it,” Jack says, grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling it. And Rhys would snap that Jack kind of killed his  _ ‘hairdresser’ _ , but he bites his tongue. Jack looks at him, and there’s that  _ smirk _ , and Rhys wishes that he could hide, because Jack taps his fingers at his chin and manages a chuckle. “Missing Vaughn again?”

Rhys nods, and he wants to try and explain what a best friend really is, because he feels like he’s choking, because Vaughn is gone, and he’s just now accepting that it was  _ real _ , that it actually happened. And Jack is still smiling at him, probably relishing in the idea of him choking up because of Vaughn. And that’s when Rhys walks past Jack and out of the bathroom, heading straight for the kitchen, and Jack’s following him, amused at the sight of Rhys walking about, nothing to say, and not knowing what he should do or where he should go. Rhys punches at the wall, and Jack crosses his arms, and he feels like it’s becoming concerning, because Rhys is scratching at his face, and it’s got to hurt, because Rhys is  _ crying _ , or maybe that’s his emotions.

A sudden pang of … guilt? Maybe concern?

Jack swallows and walks over to Rhys, grabbing his wrists and keeping them held in place. He sighs and pulls Rhys close to his chest, and Rhys  _ wants  _ to hurt Jack,  _ wants  _ to get him the fuck away from him, but he can’t. Rhys’s mismatched eyes close, and before he knows it, he’s sobbing into Jack’s shirt, and Jack has his hand on the back of his head, almost protectively.

And he hears Rhys mutter a faint string of expletives as he shushes him, but he doesn’t let up, because this is  _ his  _ game, and he’s not going to lose it. He hates the feeling that he has, like he shouldn’t have hurt Rhys like that, but he had to. How could Rhys not see that he was only trying to protect him? Jack holds Rhys like this until the younger man calms down, and even after that, Rhys isn’t looking at him, he isn’t responding to his touches, and he feels like he’s losing him, losing  _ his  _ Rhysie.

He hates the feeling. It almost makes him  _ sick _ , and he gets an idea.

“Rhysie, baby…” Jack trails off, watching Rhys’s expression as it changes from a brooding look to one of pure anger, and Jack knows that he’s in for it now, and he takes Rhys’s hands into his own, only to feel them being snatched away roughly. Rhys is going to leave him, and he knows it. But he doesn’t leave the spot he’s in, and he’s trying to keep from crying again, and that much is obvious. He leans forward, placing his head to Jack’s chest. He was back under, feeling himself falling back into Jack’s arms, and he almost feels bad, because he knows that that’s not what Vaughn would want, but at the same time-- he deserved to be happy.

Jack was desperate, he wanted an answer, he wanted to hear him say those words so badly. He reaches out, and he’s touching nothing, because Rhys is moving right past him and into another room, and then another, until he winds up in their room, and his holding his pillow and sobbing again, and he’s a mess. A confused, contradictory mess. And Jack holds back from screaming, from walking into the room, because Rhys deserves privacy because of this, and he deserves to be left alone to decide for himself, and the pain starts to seep into Jack’s chest even more, and his eyes are almost stinging from the way that they’re filling up with tears.

He’s going to lose him, and if he loses him, he’ll lose  _ everything _ .

It’s  _ nothing  _ compared to the pain he felt when he lost Angel, he’s sure of that, but he imagines that it feels something like it, even if a bit.

Ah, but  _ wait  _ \- this feeling is completely new for him, and he sits down on the couch, his fingers rubbing his temples gently, and he’s not sure of himself for the first time in years. He was trying to protect Rhys, to keep him from leaving him, to keep him there, with him, but now… it seems like it was all in vain anyway. No, no, it couldn’t be, because Rhys wasn’t going to leave him, he even told him that. Imagining the looks of disgust that Rhys had thrown at him, he exhales a breath that he didn’t know that he was holding. He was fucking up, he had fallen. And he wouldn’t- couldn’t- accept it. Like the ones before him, Rhys would leave him when things got too difficult. He clears his throat and walks into the kitchen and opens the refrigerator door, grabbing the vodka. He sighs again and begins drinking it straight. He’s been right the whole time, Rhys just needs time, he needs time to understand. That’s all. Rhys won’t leave him. He won’t. Because he has nowhere else to go.

The next morning, Rhys wakes up, and his hair’s a mess from the tossing and turning that he’d been doing in his sleep, and he can tell that Jack hadn’t come to bed. The feeling of Jack’s side of the bed being cold was foreign to Rhys, and he hated the feeling. He rubbed his eyes, and he looked in the mirror as he walked by it. He was confident that he was making the right decision, and as crazy as it sounded, it gave him solace, seeing Vaughn in his dream and talking to him. That was the thing about the way that his brain worked, it seemed like when he had his cybernetics installed, he began to be able to control his dreams, and they were almost always lucid.

He exits their bedroom, not bothering to fix his hair or even wipe his face. He walks into the sitting room, and there’s Jack, asleep on the couch, empty bottle of vodka on the table. Rhys picks the bottle up and walks into the kitchen and throws it in the trash before pouring himself a glass of orange juice. He lets his eyes scan over Jack one more time before he smiles and gets an idea. He places the glass of juice down on the table after taking another sip of it and heads to their bedroom, grabbing a blanket and walking back into the room, fitting himself into Jack’s arms before pulling the blanket over the two of them.

They’d be okay, they would definitely be okay. Rhys knows that they will.

And later in the afternoon, after successfully sleeping for an entire day, Jack finally wakes up, and he looks at Rhys, who has managed to fall back asleep again, and his runs a hand through his hair. He nudges Rhys a bit, to which Rhys responds by stretching a bit before he turns to Jack and smiles, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Jack smiles and looks at the clock on the wall with a groan. “I slept the entire day away?”

Rhys nods his head as he stifles a yawn and finally gets up off of the couch. “I guess we did.” And Jack gets up and rubs his eyes as he heads to the bathroom, not even bothering to shut the door behind him. And Rhys swallows, walking up to the door, heart beating his his chest, and this feels all too personal, because Handsome Jack is actually taking a piss in front of him. That’s something that married couples do. That’s something that people who are way too comfortable do, and for some reason, Rhys feels nauseous, he feels like he’s going to pass out, because this is too much like them being --

“What is it, Rhysie?” And now, Jack is in front of him, watching him curiously as Rhys struggles to speak to him, and he finds himself reaching for Rhys’s face, and he examines the bruises and the gash, and he swallows, because he  _ wants  _ to hurt Rhys. He  _ wants to hurt him so badly _ , but something is keeping him from it, and he notices something. Rhys is  _ blushing _ , and he hasn’t seen him blush like that in so long, it’s almost been two years, Jack is sure of it. “Rhysie, baby, you gotta talk to me. Use your words, pumpkin.”

“I… I was going to say that I was sorry for yesterday.” Jack’s eyes are wide, and he’s looking at Rhys, and suddenly, he feels something heavy in his chest, and he leans forward, just enough to kiss Rhys hard, and they both tumble down, right into the floor, Jack’s hand behind Rhys’s head so that he doesn’t injure it, and they’re kissing, and Jack’s ignoring the pain that’s spreading across his knuckles from the fall. He lets a small groan escape his lips, and Rhys looks at him, concerned, and they break the kiss. “Jack…? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” and oh  _ god _ , he’s lying to him, and Jack’s not sure what the feeling is in his stomach, the feeling that he needs to tell Rhys what he’s feeling, to tell him what’s going on in his head, but he doesn’t get the chance, because there’s the annoying sound of his phone ringing, and he sighs and answers it, still on top of Rhys, who’s getting more and more nervous, because Jack is close to him, and he just needs for him to be  _ closer _ . And that’s when Jack gets up and practically storms into the kitchen and now he’s yelling at the person on the phone, it’s an employee that messed something up, from the sounds of it, and Rhys has retreated into their room, curled up, as small as he can, and he’s trying to block out the memories of how loud Jack could be when it was  _ them  _ arguing.

And later, Jack walks into the room, and he crawls onto the bed and over to Rhys and kisses his temple softly. “I’ve gotta go pick something up, it’s a surprise.” Rhys nods and rolls over to open his arms, and invitation for them to be close again, and it’s no surprise when Jack places a finger to Rhys’s lips, “I’ll be back, honey.” And after Jack leaves, Rhys feels empty, like something’s missing. He gets out of the bed and walks to his dresser, pulling out a shirt and his favorite night shorts. He swallows, then looks into his underwear drawer and pulls out a pair of panties. He smiles at himself in the mirror, and he feels content. He walks into the bathroom and runs the water, adjusts the temperature and hums to himself as he finally decides on using bubbles instead of a bath bomb. He detaches his cybernetic arm and places one of the coverings that Jack had made for him specifically to cover the port over it, so that he wouldn’t mess anything up.

He sighs as he sinks down into the water. He feels happy and at peace with himself. And he thinks about Jack, and the changes that have been happening in their relationship, and he feels himself starting to blush again. He whispers to himself, “I’m in love.” He knew that he was, because if it was anything like he imagined, he was definitely in love. He was in love, and he wasn’t going to leave. It was just that simple.

And hours later, Jack still isn’t home, and Rhys is getting nervous. He knows that there are plenty of people that want to kill Jack, and he can’t stop his mind from constantly going back and forth between the situations that could have happened. It’s not long before he’s crying into his pillow, because he’s  _ afraid _ . He’s afraid that he’s lost Jack. His heart is hurting, his head is killing him, and he looks down at his legs, and the bruises that adorn them, and he thinks of Jack again, and oh,  _ god _ , he’s going to be okay, Jack’s fine, he’ll be okay. He’s a strong man, after all. But Rhys still has his doubts.

And that’s when his phone rings, and Rhys hesitates, but he answers, because it’s Jack’s ringtone, and he knows that he should answer. A weak hello, and then the voice of someone he’s all too familiar with, but who he wasn’t really expecting. And then the tears come. And Rhys’s voice is gone, because he can’t speak, it hurts too much.

_ Too, too much. _

And he reaches for Jack’s pillow, and he’s tossing around, sobbing loudly, and he hasn’t bothered to hang the phone up. And then he feels like it’s a cruel joke, because he swears that he can hear Jack’s voice. And he does, because he can feel him touching him, and he won’t open his eyes, because it’s painful to think about it, but when he feels the lips at his neck, Rhys looks, and there’s Jack, and he cries harder, and Jack is shushing him, and when Rhys asks him what happened, he tells him that it was his body double in Opportunity, and that’s when Rhys thinks back to Timothy, and he hopes that there are other body doubles.

And through his sobs, Rhys is asking Jack about Timothy, and Jack corrects him and calls him ‘other Jack’, and he confirms that it wasn’t Timothy, and Rhys’s heartbeat is slowing down to normal, and he’s clinging to Jack, because he knew that in the back of his mind that he couldn’t die, because heroes don’t die. And Jack is whispering to him, and he tells him that he loves him, and Rhys believes him, because he’s telling the truth, and Rhys says it back, and Jack believes him. Rhys is practically screaming through the sobs, telling Jack that he thought that he lost him, and Jack is smiling, though Rhys can’t see him, because this is a dirty trick, and he knows it, but he doesn’t regret it, because Rhys is clinging to him for dear life.

Jack is kissing Rhys’s neck and nibbling at it, and Rhys has his arm over his eyes, and he feels exhausted, he’s all cried out, and he can’t take much more, and he knows that Jack isn’t going to stop, not when he’s like this, and his hands are roaming his entire body, touching him, making him his, and Rhys is letting him. Rhys swallows, and he gasps out an  _ I love you  _ while Jack is right in between his thighs, and he’s not even teasing him tonight, and he finally dips his tongue down to taste Rhys, and immediately, his back arches, and Jack lightly moves his fingernails over Rhys’s stomach, sending chills down his spine. And Jack continues for a long while, and Rhys has orgasm after orgasm, and eventually, Jack has him all cleaned up, and Rhys can almost  _ see  _ his juices on Jack’s face before the man uses his fingers to clean his chin off.

Rhys’s legs are still shaking, and he watches as Jack lays beside him, smiling at him. And Rhys, though weak, smiles at Jack. He moves onto his hands and knees and positions himself in front of Jack’s underwear and kisses his already hard cock through the fabric of them. Jack lets out a sigh and watches as Rhys finally pulls his underwear off and tosses them to the floor before licking a long stripe up his shaft. Rhys swallows nervously, because he doesn’t do this very often, and it’s always a bit awkward for him. Jack hums low in his throat as he looks down at Rhys, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

And cue Rhys getting even more nervous about it now, because Jack is running his fingers through his hair and watching as Rhys slides his mouth up and down on him, “Just like that, you’re doing so good, princess.” And eventually, Jack is facefucking him, and Rhys is more than willing to accept it, because the way that Jack is groaning and fisting his hair is making Rhys wet, and he wants Jack, because the way that his face looks right now is almost  _ too good _ .

And Jack shoots his load into Rhys’s throat, and Rhys  _ swallows it all _ , and Jack praises him, running his fingers through his hair. Rhys swallows again, unsure, when Jack pulls out of his mouth with a lewd  _ pop _ . And Jack pulls Rhys onto his lap, and Rhys feels his heart speeding up, because the position is so intimate, and Jack spreads Rhys slowly, gently, and he whispers huskily into his ear, telling him that he’s soaking and he’s hungry for his cock, and Rhys moves his hips down onto the tip of Jack’s cock, and he eases down just as Jack snaps his hips up and inside of Rhys, moving slowly at first, and Rhys has his arms wrapped around Jack’s neck, his head thrown back as Jack moves his hips faster.

“ _ Fuck _ , you’re leaking all over me already, baby.” Jack kisses Rhys’s throat and whispers to him, “Tell daddy how much you love it, how hard you want it, Rhysie.” And Rhys feels like he could die of embarrassment, but he moans and tells Jack everything that he wants to hear, and soon enough, he’s on his back, and Jack’s moving into him harder and harder, and Rhys has the blankets, pulling them harder and harder with every thrust. And then, Rhys feels Jack’s hand on his throat as he pushes as hard as he can into him, releasing his seed inside of his body, and Rhys almost wants Jack to keep his hand there, because Rhys is close, but they don’t stop there, because the closeness, the smells, the sounds, they’re too much, and so personal, so very much them, and they wouldn’t trade it for anything.

And eventually, morning comes, and Jack finally pulls out of him, and Rhys is hoarse, a mess, and Jack’s a mess too. They’re both sweaty, and Jack takes one look at the bed and laughs a bit as he makes a joke about Rhys’s habit of pulling all of the sheets with him. Rhys laughs, and he stands up, only to have to grab onto Jack’s arm to balance. He limps, and Jack hits his ass with a loud smack as he passes by him, and Rhys swears that one day Jack will get his.

He’s happy, though.

“So,” Rhys rasps out, later, after they’ve both showered and they’re sitting together on the couch, watching a television show about space, “what was the surprise?” And Jack smiles at him and kisses his temple. He gets up and walks into the kitchen and comes back with a box, and it’s wrapped up with a bow, and Rhys wonders what Jack could have possibly done, because anytime there’s a bow on something, it’s usually going to be very bad. Jack looks at him, expectantly, and he nudges Rhys, “Go on, open it. I think you’ll like it.”

And Rhys opens the box at Jack’s command, and there’s a cute lingerie set, and it almost looks custom made because it was the same pattern that his pants had, stripes on one side, and he could have sworn that Jack hated those damn pants, but it made Rhys happy. He looked further in the box, and his face turned a bright shade of red as he pulled out a glass dildo, he looked at it, and he knew that he had seen one of them on J-List before. He swallowed and looked at Jack, who was obviously holding in a laugh. Rhys whispered a thank you before putting the gifts back into the box, and that’s when Jack let out a huge roar of laughter.

“You’re gonna fucking love that dildo, baby,” he says, kissing Rhys’s ear, “especially when I’m fucking you with it.” And Rhys shivers and stands up, taking the box into their room and sitting it on his dresser. He smiles to himself and laughs a bit, because Jack is just way too much sometimes, but at least he’s his, and he knows that that’s just enough to get him by.

He looks over at the bed, and his heart almost leaps out of his chest when he sees the bed made up and roses, chocolates and a small box on the bed, and as if right on cue, Jack is sneaking into the doorway, watching as Rhys approaches the bed, looking at the small box, and he opens it, and Jack is right behind him, his hands on his hips and his lips at his neck as Rhys looks at the diamond ring inside of it, but it’s not silver, or gold, it’s black and it’s the prettiest thing that Rhys has ever seen. His mouth is wide open, and Jack is smirking against his skin, and Rhys is at a loss for words.

“Let’s get  _ married _ , pumpkin. We don’t have to go all traditional if you don’t wanna.”

Rhys is pretty sure that he can’t speak, and he’s pretty sure that this is Jack’s way of making sure that he never, ever leaves him, but Rhys nods his head slowly, and Jack nips at his neck, “Use your words.”

And Rhys feels tears stinging his eyes, and he feels so happy, and he says  _ yes _ , over and over, and he gets louder and louder every time. Jack is still holding onto him, and it’s a good thing, because Rhys passes out, and Jack chuckles as he moves everything off of the bed and props Rhys up on the pillows. Rhys is probably going to need to work on that little  _ fainting  _ problem of his.


	7. cards on the table

Rhys’s eyes flutter open, and he’s very,  _ very  _ aware of what’s going on, because he smells spaghetti cooking, hears the distant hum of Jack singing some song about love that’s tune sounded distinctly familiar, and he’s on the couch, and Jack’s obviously changed him into different clothes, and right on cue, like he could sense him waking up, Jack saunters into the room and smiles at him in that very…  _ Jack  _ way that he does. He looks almost proud, and Rhys absolutely  _ loves  _ it when he looks at him like that. Rhys clears his throat, and before he can speak, Jack is chuckling, telling him that’s he’s been out for hours. He laughs, “I thought you  _ died  _ after I proposed to ya, darlin’!”

Oh god, oh god, oh  _ god _ ,  _ ohgod _ ,  _ ohgodohgodohgod _ .

Jack had  _ actually  _ done that, and Rhys felt himself becoming dizzy again, his head swimming, and he can’t quite wrap his head around the thought of actually being  _ married  _ to  _ the  _ Handsome Jack. And Jack has his arms crossed, looking at him, and he looks  _ amused _ , a smile playing at his features. Jack can’t possibly know how deep his hero worship is, he just can’t, and Jack tilts his head to the side, as if he’s examining him, searching for something. And that’s when he speaks, “Hey, hey, Rhysie, stay with me.” And Rhys is alert now, and he finally stands and walks over to Jack, legs still a bit sore from the previous night, but he can’t help that Jack’s statement was intended for more than just that moment. And as if he could read Jack, as if he knew what he wanted for him to say, he whispers, “I’m going to stay.”

“Ah, Rhysie,  _ my  _ little Rhysie,” Jack’s got to stop with the nickname, because Rhys even hears it in his sleep, and he hears it when he’s alone, when he thinks of Jack, and if for some reason something happened, he wouldn’t be able to think without  hearing it, but Rhys stays quiet, lets Jack drink in his image, and it’s no secret that that’s what the older man is doing. “You are a gem, let’s eat dinner, huh?” And Jack walks him to his seat, pulls the chair out and everything, and this is definitely different, definitely different than what had been happening not even two weeks ago. He’s confused, torn, he doesn’t know if he wants the rough, mean Jack, or if he likes this caring side more, and he guesses that it’s okay, he doesn’t exactly have to pick, because he’d be with Jack regardless. He loves Jack, he loves him so much more than anyone could even dream of knowing. Even Jack. Jack is definitely unaware of how deep his love runs, because if he knew, he’d definitely exploit it somehow. Not that Rhys would mind that, anyway.

Jack sits the plate of pasta in front of him, and Rhys thanks him, and he’s greeted by the warmest smile that he’s only seen Jack use in his commercials for his products. He walks over to the dimmer switch and turns the lights low, and then Jack sits, not across from him like he often does, but he sits right next to him, pulling his chair around the table. He looks over at Rhys, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so emotional, just from simple gestures, and he wonders if that’s something that’s normal, because he knows that he’s definitely not normal. Jack takes a bite of his food, and he smiles at Rhys, “Damn,  _ damn _ , I am  _ such  _ a good cook! I should open a restaurant.”

Rhys laughs, not because the statement is absolutely ridiculous ( _ Handsome Jack _ , a professional cook?  _ No _ .), but because Jack is actually funny, and Jack laughs with him. The younger man finishes his food shortly after Jack, and he offers to take their plates. He can’t help but worry, because usually, nothing ever goes right for him, and now, suddenly, Jack is being much nicer than he ever has before. As he places the dishes in the sink before beginning to wash them, he feels Jack behind him, and before he knows it, strong arms are around his waist, and Jack’s forehead is on his shoulder. Rhys doesn’t say anything, quietly washing their dishes as Jack hums a tune behind him, and he finally finishes up a few minutes later, and Jack mumbles something about how he’s going to be a really good wife, and Rhys’s face feels hot, and in fact, everything feels heavy.

And that’s when Jack finally releases Rhys from his embrace, and Rhys looks at Jack through mismatched eyes, and Jack leans forward and he’s just so  _ close  _ to Rhys, and Rhys closes the distance between them. He laughs a bit, and he moves around Jack, pushing the chairs in and walking into the sitting room again, where their blanket from the previous day was still at. Jack’s not too far behind him, and he sits down before pulling Rhys into his lap. “So, hey, kiddo, we gotta talk, or y’know, I talk, you listen.” And Rhys nods, while Jack swallows before he finally begins. “Good, okay. I know, you might be thinking that this whole proposal thing was super sudden, but kitten,” he takes Rhys’s hand and pushes the ring onto his finger, “I’ve been thinking, since you’ve been with me for so long, I’ve had these picked out for a while, and I know how much you love surprises, I just. Look, Rhysie, I just want you to stay with me.  _ Forever _ , okay? That’s what marriage is. You stay  _ forever _ . Do  _ not  _ leave me like the others, Rhys.”

And he dropped the nickname, and it’s the first time that Jack’s called him Rhys in a long time. He must be serious, because the way that his brows are knitted are the same as when Rhys has seen him get absolutely angry at work, and Rhys nods his head, “I’m not going anywhere, anyway, Jack.” And Jack pats the younger man’s thigh and tells him that that is exactly what he wanted to know, and he kisses Rhys on the cheek. And then Jack props his head up on his hand, watching intently as Rhys gazes at him, his eyes locked with the younger man’s. Rhys feels the anxiousness bubbling up and that’s when Jack snaps him out of it with a sigh. “Ask me what I know you’re thinking,” he says, still looking up at him, and there’s a smile on his face. “Ask me about the dirty details of what happened to my second wife.”

“I… I…” Rhys is stammering, and he just  _ can’t _ , that’s Jack’s past, that’s too personal, but Jack is looking at him so intensely that he feels like if he doesn’t, he might just die. But, no,  _ no _ , he can handle himself, he can’t ask something like that. “I can’t ask you that. You don’t have to tell me.” And Jack makes a terrible buzzing sound with his mouth and that’s when Rhys finds himself down on the couch, and Jack is having a good time with  _ whatever  _ this was that he was doing. He traces his fingers along the bruises that are fading along his neck, and Rhys sucks in a breath, and Jack chuckles as he moves further down to his chest, and he begins unbuttoning the shirt that Rhys is wearing.

“Don’t worry. I’m just… looking at you, okay?” And Jack’s hand is tracing over his small breasts, down his torso, and he’s  _ looking  _ at him, like he said, but something about it feels far too intimate, and Rhys realizes that he’s looking at the bruises, and Jack looks up at his face, and he leans down, right at his ribs, and places a kiss, the nibbles at the area, and Rhys finds himself whining at the feeling. Jack bites down a bit harder, and Rhys finds himself wanting  _ more  _ of that feeling, and he raises his hips a bit, his eyes closing as Jack begins kissing over his soft stomach. “I wanna,” a kiss, then a small bite, “make you,” he’s finished unbuttoning his shirt, and it’s open, exposing his full top, “feel good, baby.” He’s nipping and kissing at his flesh, and Rhys feels dizzy from all of the attention. He swallows, and before he knows it, Jack is back at his neck, his fingers tracing along his body, his mouth on his neck, and he’s kissing and sucking on it, and Rhys wants more of the feeling.

“ _ Jack _ ,” Rhys breathes out, and Jack is right next to his tattoo now, and Rhys reaches up and holds Jack’s head right there, and the older man  _ devours  _ his neck, biting and sucking on it, and Rhys moans softly. “Jack,  _ please _ , don’t stop.” And Jack bites down on him, harder than before, and begins to suck on it. Jack’s fingers ghost down to Rhys’s pants, and Jack thanks himself for picking out a pair of his night pants as his fingers slip past the waistband. Rhys spreads his legs and Jack moves his fingers to tease at his sensitive pearl, and Rhys is lost for words when Jack moves to kiss at his collarbone, and it’s almost too much for him. Jack leans back up, lips ghosting over the bruises on Rhys’s face, and Rhys feels close to tears, so,  _ so  _ close to just  _ crying  _ and calling Jack an asshole for being so fucking gentle, but it’s so comforting, it makes him feel so  _ loved _ .

And Jack is looking him right in the eye while he strokes his clit faster, and Rhys’s legs are shaking, his eyes are closed, and Jack can tell that he’s close, because Rhys is whispering his name, and only his name, over and over again, and Jack would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he loved when Rhys did that. Rhys reaches up to Jack, moaning as his orgasm starts to crash through him, and he pulls Jack close to his face again, and Jack kisses him, and how could he  _ not _ , when Rhys’s cheeks are tinted such a bright pink? The color looks damn good on them too.

As a simultaneous _ I love you _ falls from both of their lips, they both look at each other, and Jack smirks and whispers, “Jinx.”


	8. and they come unstuck

He’s confused, to say the least, when Rhys calls him because Jack is out at work, checking on things, and he just wants to talk. He was definitely sure that Rhys was going to leave Jack last time, but then again, he’s seen plenty of situations like it, and he kind of knew that Rhys wasn’t going anywhere. He runs a finger through his hair, and he wonders if the only reason that Rhys is talking to him is because he sounds like Jack, but he shakes off the thought, because he  _ is  _ Jack. That’s what his contract says, and he’s sticking to it.

“--And we’re engaged now, I guess,” Rhys sounds happy, and Timothy’s mouth is hanging open, and he has to mentally  _ slap  _ himself to make himself even respond to that. He responds positively, of course, but he still doesn’t love the idea of it, because Rhys was a goddamn wreck when he first met him, which was also the first time that he had been in his house. The only time, in fact, and he knew that Rhys was scared to get too close, of fear that Jack might kill him too, but well, anyway, it wasn’t Timothy’s problem anyway.

And that’s when he hears the familiar knock on his door, and he whispers into the phone to tell Rhys that he’s got someone at the door, and after he hangs up, he walks over and opens the door, not surprised at all when it’s Jack.  _ Speak of the devil. _

“H-He-Heyyy,” Jack says, singing out every syllable as Timothy backs up a bit, and he’s still thinking that any interaction between himself and Jack is just weird… really weird, and Jack walks into his little apartment and laughs. “Damn, Jack, you’ve gotta get a better place! I pay you more than enough to get out of this hellhole.”

Timothy laughs, and it’s so fake, Jack knows it is, but he ignores it, “Yeah, guess it’s just the whole, ‘Home’s where the heart is’ thing.” Jack nods at him and chuckles, patting him roughly on the shoulder before telling him to get a better fucking apartment, or else. And Timothy nods frantically, scared out of his mind at the threats that Jack’s spitting at him.

“So, wanna talk to ya, sexy,” and Timothy’s not used to him calling him  _ sexy  _ every time he sees him, either, but, what can he do about it? And Timothy widens his eyes, urging Jack to go on, and Jack is walking ahead of Timothy, and right over to where he put his cell phone down, and Timothy feels his mouth go dry. He’s about to look at his phone, and when he sees that he’s been talking to Rhys, he knows that either he’ll be dead, or he’ll be at home and literally beating the shit out of Rhys. His heart is thumping wildly, and he watches as Jack examines the phone. “But first, is this a Galaxy? S6 model, right?” Timothy nods. “Fingerprint recognition? Nice,” Jack places his finger over the sensor, and Timothy swallows before Jack starts cackling, “You ought to use the pattern or the code, because I could have seriously just fucked all of your stuff up.”

Timothy laughs, nervous, as Jack hands his phone back to him, “Yes sir, I’ll be sure to change that.”

“Anyway, I wanna talk to ya, come on, let’s sit down in your tiny kitchen,” and Jack makes himself at home in one of the chairs, and Timothy notes that it’s the same one that Rhys went for. He sits down, opposite Jack, and Jack places his hands on the table, and he knows he’s fucked. The posture, the pose, the way that Jack is looking at him right now… Yeah, he was  _ royally  _ fucked. “Don’t look so nervous, you haven’t done anything.” Timothy breathes a sigh of relief as he notices Jack’s leg jumping up and down, and he knows that that is a sign of Jack actually showing a bit of nervousness. “Damn, I wouldn’t even talk to you about this, but there’s no one else,” and Jack’s got his hands at his temples now, and he instructs Timothy to look away, and the doppelganger does as he’s told while Jack unhinges his mask and runs his fingers over his face. He breathes out, “You’re the only fuckin’ one. I killed Wilhelm, he was my best guy for shit like this.”

Jack is stressed out, and Timothy knows that, now.

“I’m marrying him,” Jack seems to trail off, and Timothy almost wants to look at him, wants to look and see what those eyes of his are hiding, wants to see him exposed, because now, he’s got to answer for everything. “Rhysie. You know Rhysie. I’m sure Angel would’ve loved him.” And Timothy’s head  _ almost  _ snaps over to him for that one, but he keeps himself still. “How the fuck did I get this lucky? I mean, I practically strangle and kill the little bitch every day.”

_ That’s fucked up. _

That’s all that Timothy can think, while he hears Jack clamping the mask back on, and then Jack says that he can look again if he wants to. And Timothy looks back over, and Jack looks happy. “Ahh, Timothy, you know, your real name ain’t so bad.” Timothy almost gasps at Jack’s mention of his real name, but decides against it, and Jack’s lips curl into a soft smile as he notices Timothy’s discomfort and surprise, “Look more like Jack to me, though. Y’know, with my face and stuff.”

Timothy nods his head, and he decides to be bold and ask Jack a question that was more than likely going to get him killed. “So… you gonna kill Rhys for making you actually  _ feel  _ something?” And Timothy is actually proud of himself, and he watches as Jack’s amused expression falters, and becomes one of pure agitation. Jack stands up and practically lunges at him, grabbing him by the collar and holding him a few inches off of the ground. “ _ Jack _ ,” he purrs, voice low, and now he’s got his grin back, “Jack, Jack,  _ Jack _ ,  _ baby _ ! You look like you’re gonna wet yourself, grow a pair, would ya?”

Timothy  _ does  _ look scared, in fact, he wishes he could go back to thirty seconds ago when he even mentioned killing Rhys. “B-B-But… I thought that that was what you tol--” and he’s cut off by Jack letting go of him, only to have his hands right at his throat, squeezing tight. Jack is practically spitting, telling him, in graphic detail, just how messy things are going to get if he so much as touches a hair on Rhys’s head.

And when Jack leaves, Timothy understands, and he doesn’t speak to Rhys again after that, lets the phone ring and ring when Rhys calls, and eventually, about a month later, the calls stop coming, and Timothy’s convinced that Rhys probably thinks that he’s dead.

That is, until he manages to actually see Rhys out, and without Jack, at the supermarket. And Rhys runs over to him, and he looks happy as ever, there aren’t any visible marks on his skin, and Timothy almost sighs in relief, out loud. He knows what will happen if Jack catches him talking to Rhys, and he is pretty sure that Rhys knows too, because the younger man keeps on looking around them in a way that could almost be considered paranoid. Rhys smiles at him and shows him the ring, and they chat for a long while, and Rhys’s phone rings, and he answers on the first ring, and Timothy has no doubt that it’s Jack, because Rhys is smiling, and he almost looks like he’s in complete  _ bliss _ .

And Timothy is thankful that Rhys didn’t tell him that he was there, and he lets him know that. Rhys nods and gives him an apology, because he feels like he’s obligated, and Timothy quickly shushes him, telling him that it’s not his fault, and Rhys laughs. “You know, I was worried when you never called back or even bothered to let me know something,” the younger man admits, and he’s looking Timothy in the eyes, and Timothy takes the time to notice the colors and the way that Rhys’s eyes seem to shine.  _ No, no, no _ , he thinks to himself as he tears his gaze away from him. He’s got to end the friendship, he’s got to save Rhys from being hurt.

“Rhys, we’ve got to stop talking,” Timothy says, and he’s feeling the pain already, his heart hurting just from seeing Rhys’s expression change into one of complete sorrow. And Rhys doesn’t ask why, because he already knows that it was Jack, but at least he didn’t kill him. He inhales through his nose deeply before he lets the first tear fall, and Timothy is  _ really  _ feeling hurt now. Good thing that the store that they were at was always fairly quiet.

Rhys is sniffling, and Timothy offers him a handkerchief that he always carried, but never used. He was so used to his allergies from before the surgery that he always had one on him, but he had never used it, not in several years. Rhys wipes his tears and blows his nose before folding the cloth up. Timothy whispers to him, quiet enough that no one would hear him, “That offer from before,” he scans Rhys’s features, and  _ yeah _ , he knows what he’s talking about. “It still stands to this day, and even ten years from now, you know. All you have to do is call, and I’ll give you my new address.”

And that’s when they part, Rhys still holding on to the handkerchief, and he weeps.

Once Timothy is at home, his  _ new  _ home, one that was much nicer than the apartment, he sits down on the couch, and he’s not even bothered that he left the supermarket without any of his groceries, in fact, he didn’t care. He wanted to just disappear, because the look that Rhys had on his face when he told them that they shouldn’t speak anymore. He feels terrible, and his eyes are fogged with his own tears, because that was just outright  _ mean _ , and he had no right, whether it was a direct order from Jack or not.

He sits for a long while, unmoving, in his spot on the couch, and he replays the scene over and over and over. He was terrible. He was probably Rhys’s last friend in the galaxy that wasn’t Jack, and well, he had messed it up in the worst way. He thinks long and hard about reaching out to Rhys, but the threat of Jack stayed constant, because he never knew when Rhys would be alone, and so he went to the supermarket every day. Day after day, looking for Rhys, and one day, a few weeks later, he sees him, and he approaches him slowly, “Rhys…?”

And Rhys turns around slowly, and he looks at Timothy for a moment before speaking, and his heart practically leaps out of his chest. “Hi,” he says, and he looks at him, almost in shock. “Thought we weren’t talking anymore.” Rhys is  _ soooo  _ pissed, he’s so,  _ so  _ pissed at him. And Timothy frowns and looks away before he tells Rhys that he’s sorry and that he’s felt terrible for the last few weeks because of it, and then, without thinking, he adds in that he hated to see him cry, and he didn’t want to be the one that made him do that.

And he probably  _ shouldn’t  _ have said that at all, because Rhys looks absolutely shocked.

Timothy is embarrassed, and he swallows, and gestures with a hand, “So, you, uh, gonna say anything?” Rhys begins laughing, and he walks forward, hugging Timothy and causing him to tense up. Rhys is smiling, and he keeps on hugging Timothy for a while. He tells him that he forgives him, and he asks him if he can call again, and Timothy says yes, just a bit too desperately, and he really, really wants to reach out and take Rhys away from the situation that he’s in.

And after they part at the store, he leaves, knowing that Rhys knows where to find him if he ever needs him again.


	9. tactics

It was funny to him how he thought that he didn’t know what he was doing, but, that’s what he expected, because you give people an inch, they take a mile, and when he had told Timothy to stay away from Rhys, he meant it, but he stayed quiet about it, because he’s already decided that it’s not worth being angry over, because Rhys is his. Rhys is his, and he’s not going anywhere, and Jack’s pretty certain about it now, because Rhys had, not even twenty minutes ago, spilled his whole heart to him, and the kid was an emotional wreck if he’d ever seen one. Jack was confident, he was hit by something, he didn’t know what, but it was something. And he watched him from a distance as he pulled on his favorite pair of shorts. When Rhys came to bed, he smelled like some kind of intoxicating fruit, and Jack couldn’t stop smelling his hair, which Rhys thought to be way too strange, but he allowed it to happen, because Jack was absolutely all over him since the confession, but Rhys wanted to know where Jack stood, and he had a feeling that he knew how to get the older man to talk about it.

He melts like butter in the older man’s arms, and Jack has his eyes closed, holding tight to Rhys’s frame, and Rhys manages to whisper to him, and he finally asks him what exactly it is that he feels for him, and Jack’s eyes open slightly, and he’s struggling to find the words, because what could he even say to Rhys about it? He almost feels a bit dizzy himself, and after a long moment of absolute silence, Rhys says his name again, and Jack’s  _ still  _ not responding, and Rhys is growing impatient. He swallows, wiggles his way out of Jack’s arms to turn and look at the older man, who’s looking at him, his eyes widening, and Rhys has seen that look before, the look that he gets when he’s losing, and  _ yeah _ , Rhys thinks, he needs to lose, because he’s  _ going  _ to figure out how Jack feels eventually. And then, cue Rhys pushing Jack a step further, and it’s probably Jack rubbing off on him, but he just can’t help but want to  _ push  _ Jack, want to see how he reacts when it’s Rhys calling the shots, because he knows, he  _ knows  _ that he’s got Jack. He’d do anything for him, so why couldn’t he just come out and say how he felt?

Rhys looks at Jack for a long moment, and it’s been so long since Jack’s looked at him with that look, with his eyes wide and round, an obvious pout on his face, and he looks like he’s just lost his best friend. That’s when Rhys decides to act, and he knows where it’ll put him, and maybe he’s just not scared anymore, no, that’s not true, and Rhys knows it’s not. Jack watches as Rhys walks out of the room, and he calls after him, “Rhys!  _ Rhysie _ !”

And like a reflex, Rhys is calling back to him as he’s heading down the stairs, “Why the hell can’t you just admit how you feel to me, Jack?” And oh, Rhys has adrenaline pumping now, because he knows where he’s got Jack, and it’s about time, because Jack needed to tell him how much he meant to him, or, as much as he’d hate to, he’d have to do something to make him make the move to tell him, and Rhys really, really didn’t want to do that. And Jack was rushing down the stairs, his eyes still wide, his focus on Rhys, and he reaches and grabs Rhys by the arms, and he’s holding him tight, looking him in the eyes, and Rhys feels pretty powerful at this moment, because he swears that Jack looks almost scared, and if he thinks that Rhys doesn’t know about his little move to fake a death and get him upset, no, he knows. He knew it after he thought about it for a while, and when Rhys thinks too much on one thing, it gets  _ dangerous _ . But he can’t help but feel that he’s being cruel, and he’s looking at Jack, and the man is still holding him, and  _ tighter  _ than before, and Rhys knows that it’ll bruise.

“Do you love me, Jack?” The question seems to slip off of his tongue so easily, and Jack’s eyes are on him, studying him, and he wonders where Rhys was coming from with this sudden question. Rhys is looking into his eyes, and he’s serious, Jack can tell, because he’s got that look on his face like he’s about to win at something, and Jack knows Rhys well enough to know that he’s been thinking about something, and he can’t let Rhys get the best of him. And that’s when Rhys is tensing up, and he’s trying to move out of Jack’s grasp, but Jack’s still got him right in place, right where he wants him, and he takes a moment, and it’s apparently taking him too long, because Rhys is sighing and he looks defeated, looking down at the hardwood floor beneath his feet. “You don’t, do you? This is just some kind of tactic to get me to stay because you apparently can’t trust me, right?” His eyes are on Jack’s again, and Jack seems to growl as his hands move up to Rhys’s throat, gripping him harder than he ever has, and Rhys knew that this would happen, because he’s got Jack pinned now, and he’s going to get it out of him, even if he has to take control of the situation himself. Never, ever think that Rhys is just another Jack fanboy, no, he knows how to emulate him, too. He can play the role of  _ Supreme Asshole Manipulator _ too.

And Jack’s looking down at him, and he is yelling at Rhys as loud as he can, and Rhys is glad that they don’t have neighbors, because this was going to get messy, and loud, but  _ especially  _ loud, that much was certain. Rhys grabs at Jack’s wrists and tries to pull him off, but to no avail, and he’s moving underneath Jack, who only seems to straddle him, and Rhys is almost scared, because Jack has a look in his eyes, and Rhys hasn’t seen that in a while, either, and Jack laughs, almost spitting at Rhys, “How the  _ fuck  _ do you think I don’t love you? I do everything for you!”

It’s a lie, and Rhys knows it, because he knows that Jack has to be comfortable, and to be comfortable, he has to have Rhys right where he wants him, like it’s second nature, and now Jack has let up on his throat, and eventually, he lets go of him, and Rhys is looking up at him, his own fingers moving over his throat, and he gasps for air slowly, breathing deeply, and Jack’s watching him. Rhys doesn’t try to get up again until Jack moves from his position on top of him, and when he does move, he swallows, and it  _ hurts _ . Jack is fussing at him as he walks into the kitchen, his feet making no noise on the floor because of his socks, and he just wishes that Jack would just  _ tell  _ him how he feels, because he knows already, so why not just tell him? And that’s when Jack probably realizes that Rhys isn’t listening to him, because it’s always the same thing, and Jack slams his hand on the counter, demanding his attention, and Rhys looks over at him, and Jack is so  _ angry _ , but all Rhys did was ask a question. Rhys opens his mouth to finally speak, but Jack’s overtalking him, and it’s no shock or surprise when Jack’s fist flies and hits Rhys right in the nose, and it’s not long before Rhys is bleeding, tears stinging at his eyes, and he’s pretty sure that this isn’t how love is supposed to work, but, after all, this is Jack. And Rhys is several shades of fucked up, too, and he wants for it to be love, because he loves Jack, and he’s sure that Jack loves him, he’s positive.

And before Rhys retreats back into the mindset that he’s been in for so long, he thinks, and he decides that he’s got to get his answer somehow, and he can’t keep the blood from running down to his mouth, and he hates the taste of it, and he knows that Jack’s not going to help him, so he walks, his head held up high, and grabs tissues and walks into the bathroom, cleaning up the mess, and he can hear Jack walking into the room with him, and Rhys knows better, or that’s what he thinks, but he’s got tissues up his nose and he’s just finished brushing his teeth when he feels Jack spin him around hard, and he practically crushes him into the counter, and Rhys clears his throat before he whispers, “I’m yours, Jack. Don’t know why you wanna break your things.”

And Jack’s looking at him, his face close to Rhys’s as he speaks, his voice low, and there’s a smirk on his face, “Because, Rhysie, you just look so damn  _ good  _ when you’re black and blue.” And Jack is right against his throat now, his mouth kissing and sucking on it as gently as he can, and Rhys is determined, even now, to get an answer out of Jack. Jack bites down and it  _ hurts _ , sending a shock of pain through Rhys’s entire body, and he gasps out, as Jack sucks on his neck hard while he picks him up and takes him up the stairs, and Rhys’s is clawing at Jack’s shoulders, doing his best to make Jack  _ feel  _ it, and when they’re in their room again, Jack is working at the other side of his neck, and Rhys pulls at the t-shirt that Jack is wearing, trying to pull it up and over his head, and Jack stops long enough to let Rhys do that, and Jack is exposed above him. He swallows, and he moves from underneath the older man, and Jack is immediately reaching for him and grabbing him, and Rhys moves, his hands moving to rub at Jack’s shoulders, “Let me do things for you tonight. I owe it to you.” And Jack knows what kind of game he’s playing, sure, but he goes along with it, laying down on the bed as he watches Rhys straddle him.

“Do what you want to, sweetheart,” Jack says, and he looks like he’s already enjoying it a bit too much, but Rhys grabs at Jack’s wrists and places his hands on his body, moving them up and down his torso as he looks down at the older man, and Rhys gasps when Jack moves his hands himself, moving them underneath the fabric of the shirt that Rhys is wearing, and his fingertips are cold against his skin. Rhys swallows and moves his hips, grinding against Jack, and Jack responds by moving against him, and Rhys can feel everything at that moment, but he doesn’t let himself forget about what he wants from Jack, and he’s got his hands on Jack’s chest, tracing his fingers up and down, watching as Jack’s breathing changes, and Rhys wants  _ more _ . He wants to make  _ Jack  _ squirm for a change, and he’s doing a good job so far, he thinks. And Jack is pushing up and  _ against  _ him, and Rhys places a finger to Jack’s lips, giving him a  _ shush _ , and Jack’s eyes widen, watching as Rhys strips down to his underwear and then takes off the rest of Jack’s clothes.

And Rhys is teasing him, moving himself against him, fabric becoming damp from how wet Rhys is becoming from the friction, and Jack is groaning, telling Rhys how much he’s going to love when he finally gets  _ inside  _ of him, and it’s music to Rhys’s ears, because he has Jack where he wants him now, and he can just hope that he makes the right moves to make Jack tell him how he feels, and now, he’s got Jack’s cock in his hand, stroking him lightly, and when Jack jerks up into Rhys’s hand, he releases him, earning another groan from the older man. Rhys smiles at him, and it should be illegal to look that deadly, Jack thinks, when Rhys gives him a look that sends a shiver down his spine. “What do you want? Want me to suck you off?” Rhys asks, and he’s teasing the head of Jack’s cock with his fingertips, “Want me to ride you? Tell me what you want,  _ handsome _ .” And Jack is thrusting upward, but Rhys stops him when he moves his body to trap his cock right beneath him, and Jack growls as he grips Rhys’s hips and moves against him, and Rhys laughs a bit at his frustration, “Hey, Jack?  _ Use your words _ .”

Jack is almost shocked at Rhys’s sudden boldness, but that’s what he likes about him, the fact that he keeps him guessing, he keeps him on his toes from time to time, and he knows what Rhys is playing at, so he humors him, because Rhys is doing a surprisingly  _ good  _ job of being ‘in charge’. He looks up at Rhys and laughs a bit before he pushes upward again, “You’re already wet and ready for me, baby.” His breath is a bit labored, and he’s got his fingertips digging into Rhys’s hips, and Rhys moves against him, and they both groan at the feeling. “How about you slide that pretty pussy onto this cock?” Rhys is more than willing to do as he’s told, and Jack practically rips the panties off of Rhys as he tosses them aside, and Rhys moves himself along the length of Jack’s cock, and Jack moans. “Oh,  _ fuck _ , Rhysie, just put that cock inside of you,” he says, and he’s grinding upwards and against Rhys, and Rhys moans, his eyes on Jack the entire time. Jack swallows and moves his hips again, and Rhys is staring right at him as he moves down on his length, slowly, teasingly, and it’s driving Jack wild.

And Jack moves his hips at a hard, steady pace, pushing himself all the way in and moving out of Rhys, and Rhys is moaning, hands right on Jack’s chest as the man manages to move into a position where he’s sitting up, and Rhys is in his lap, his legs hooking around Jack’s waist immediately as Jack is moving faster now, and Rhys has his head buried in Jack’s neck, and he begins to kiss him, and Jack’s arms seem to tighten around him as Rhys moves with him, sliding up and down his length. And Rhys whispers into Jack’s ear, “Tell me, baby, tell me how much you love me.” And Jack smiles against Rhys’s shoulder, and he moves a hand to grab Rhys by the throat, not too hard, and he kisses him  _ hard  _ as he eventually gets Rhys down on the bed. He looks into his eyes, hand still at his throat, and Rhys swallows, and he whispers again, “Jack,  _ please-- _ ,” and Jack leans down, drinking in Rhys’s scent, cutting him off when he begins moving at an unforgiving pace, and Rhys cries out as Jack moves against him.

Minutes pass, and Rhys can feel tears brimming at the corners of his eyes, and he’s begging Jack to tell him how he feels, and with a sigh, Jack leans close, his breath heavy against his ear. “I  _ love  _ you, Rhysie,” Jack says, pushing into him slower now, and Rhys moves his arms around Jack’s neck, “I love you  _ so  _ much.” The closeness, the intimacy between them is sending Rhys into absolute bliss, and he runs his fingers through Jack’s hair, while Jack plants kisses to his lips over and over.

“How much, Jack,” Rhys is looking into Jack’s eyes, and it’s so much, so, so much, “how much do you love me?” And Jack’s pace is slow, steady, and he’s whispering into Rhys’s ear, telling him that he loves him more than anything, telling him that he’d do anything,  _ anything  _ in the world for him. And Rhys pushes him further, “I’m  _ in  _ love with you, Jack.” Jack swallows at that, and he wishes he could pretend that he didn’t hear it, but Rhys is right next to his ear, and he’s telling him how much he means to  _ him  _ again, and Jack isn’t ready for that, he’s not even sure how to approach it. He returns it, and he kisses Rhys again, mumbling against his lips, telling him how much he means to him, telling him that he loves him, and Rhys shudders against Jack, and they’re both riding out their orgasms, and Rhys is mentally patting himself on the back, because he was right, and it  _ worked _ . 


	10. mending broken glass

A ringing sound wakes Rhys up from a nap that he felt was well deserved, and he looked at the time before answering his phone, it was about four in the afternoon, and Jack had gone to the office again, but it wasn’t Jack calling, in fact, he didn’t know who the number belonged to. He clears his throat, the evidence of his nap was right there when he spoke, voice lower than normal, “Hello, it’s Rhys.” And he couldn’t have possibly even dreamed of the person on the other line calling him. It’d been years and years since they’d seen each other, and they didn’t like each other then, so why was the man calling him now?

“Hey, it’s Vasquez,” the voice boomed in his ear, and Rhys sighs, wondering why he feels the need to speak so loudly, though the thought of Vasquez whispering was laughable. Rhys still doesn’t like his attitude, to this day, and he finally speaks when Vasquez says hello a few more times.

“Sorry, just don’t know how to react to my ex-nemesis calling me after not seeing me for so long,” Rhys says, annoyance plain as day in the way that he speaks, and the man on the other line sighs into the phone. “Anyway,” Rhys continues, sitting up on the bed, “what can I do for you? You get a promotion? Congratulations.”

“No, Rhys,” Vasquez snaps, “I didn’t get a promotion. Jesus Christ, you are absolutely bitter about that, aren’t you? You don’t even show up anymore, haven’t for years, and I’ll have you know, I’m not working for Hyperion anymore.” Rhys’s eyes widen at Vasquez’s statement, and he wonders what he could be calling for, then. The older man clears his throat now, and he continues talking, “So, uh, Jack’s not home right now, is he?”

“No….” Rhys’s tone is one of suspicion now, and Vasquez must be bright enough to figure that out, because he’s quickly telling him that he’s not trying to pry or do any harm, and he tells Rhys that he’s actually on a police force now, and he needed to talk to him in person. Rhys declines, and he tells him that the house is probably the worst place to speak to him. He doesn’t tell him about how paranoid Jack is, about how he’s got cameras everywhere.

“It’s about Vaughn,” Vasquez says suddenly, and Rhys jumps at the sound of his friend’s name. His best friend, his  _ bro _ . What the hell did Vasquez know about the situation with Vaughn? Rhys is worried, his hands are shaking, and he whispers, almost too softly into the phone, asking Vasquez what the hell is going on, and Vasquez tells him that he’s got suspicious to believe that he’s alive, and he’s out there, somewhere. Rhys corrects him, tells him that it’s impossible, because everyone he cares about is  _ dead _ .

Vasquez stays quiet for a moment before speaking again, “Nah, Rhys, Jack didn’t kill him, he almost did, but Vaughn faked it, and he faked it  _ good _ .”

“This has got to be a nightmare,” Rhys says, and he’s walking around, pacing, and Vasquez corrects him, telling him that it’s not, and that he was going to find Vaughn, and he was going to be safe. And Rhys snaps at him now, asking him why the hell he’s so concerned about Vaughn, because as far as he knew, Vasquez didn’t like either of them, and that’s when the older man answers quietly, “Because, Rhys, he and I had something going on, if you didn’t know. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and I’ve been bustin’ my ass for almost four months looking for him. And when I find him, I’m gonna tell you, and you and Vaughn are gonna meet up.”

Rhys stammers, “I- I still don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to right now,” Vasquez says quietly, and he sounds choked up about it, and Rhys can’t figure out why Jack would spare Vaughn’s life, if he knew that he spared it, which he probably did, because Jack was ruthless, and for him to spare Vaughn would mean that he probably didn’t want to get rid of him. After a few awkward seconds that feel like minutes tick by, the two men hang up, and Rhys has to sit down for a moment, because this is all just a little too much to handle.

And meanwhile, Vasquez hangs the phone up and tries again to call Vaughn, and he swears he hears the familiar ringtone in the distance. Okay, so maybe he lied to Rhys about the whole police force thing, but that was fine, because he was going to find Vaughn, and he was going to make sure that he stayed safe this time. And he walked and walked through the woods that he was in, desperate to find the much smaller man, and he kept on redialing the number until he finally stumbled upon a campsite, and he saw who he was looking for, a bit of the way away from his phone.

He approaches the younger man slowly, watching as Vaughn seemed to be tending to some injuries. “Vaughn?” Vasquez’s voice is low, quiet, and he’s absolutely desperate to hear Vaughn say something--  _ anything  _ to him. “Vaughn, just… Say something.” And Vaughn manages a smile as he turns around to look up at Vasquez, his eyes not as bright as they were before this whole thing had happened, and it hits Vasquez like a ton of bricks. It takes him a moment, but Vaughn finally speaks, but his voice is hoarse, and Vasquez imagines that Vaughn hasn’t really spoken in a long time.

“Come on, let’s get you back to my place,” Vasquez says, and it’s not too long before Vaughn limps over to his things and grabs a water bottle, and drinks it like his life depends on it. And then Vaughn is clearing his throat, and finally,  _ finally _ , after all their time apart, Vasquez hears Vaughn’s voice, and he asks him, ever so quietly, why he’d come after him after all this time, and Vasquez laughs a bit, and he tells him that he doesn’t really know, but what he does know is that Rhys is okay, and Rhys misses him. And Vaughn tears up at that, and he’s crying on Vasquez’s shoulder, and eventually, he’s sobbing, he’s a mess, and Vasquez decides that he’ll sit there with him as long as Vaughn needs him to.

And an hour or so passes, and Vasquez finally has Vaughn in his car, and the little guy looks like a mess, his beard uneven, his body banged up, his glasses have been broken for who knows how long, but all Vaughn can talk about is how fun it was to live in nature for a while, and Vasquez makes fun of him, calls him a hippie, and Vaughn punches him in the arm as they pull into his driveway, and Vasquez helps him out and lets him into the house. Vaughn sighs, and he’s happy that he’s home, but he admits out loud that he’ll definitely miss all of his animal friends, and Vasquez wonders if Vaughn’s been doing some kind of drug while he was out there. “So, uh, where’d you get the water?” He asks him, and Vaughn laughs before telling him that he had to go and fill them all up in the stream, he just found the bottles.

“Why didn’t you answer your phone, though? How the fuck did you keep it charged?”

“I never used it. Ever. That thing’s got a super strong battery, I got Rhys to hack it and upgrade the battery life. I didn’t want to answer, well, because I was afraid. Handsome Jack almost killed me.” And Vasquez bites his tongue at that, because he doesn’t know what Vaughn’s reaction to Rhys being with Jack, even after everything that had gone on, would be, and he didn’t want to be the guy that had to tell him. After a while of catching up and talking, Vaughn finally shaves, and Vasquez approves of the look, right back to normal, and Vaughn’s wounds are all cleaned up, he looks good as new. Well, minus the limp that he has because of his leg, and when Vasquez asks about it, he tells him that he banged it pretty bad when he had been going to get his water that morning.

And after a while, Vaughn had fallen asleep on a proper surface, and Vasquez was happy. He liked that Vaughn looked so at peace just from being able to have a pillow underneath his head, and he was showered, and it was just too good, it was like a happy ending for him, almost. Vasquez thought back to Rhys and looked at the time, and it wasn’t quite seven yet, so Jack shouldn’t have been back home yet, so he tried Rhys’s phone, and he picked it up immediately, to Vasquez’s surprise.

“Did you find him?” Rhys’s voice sounds shaky, desperate, and Vasquez tells him that he’s sleeping, sound asleep, and Rhys practically squeals with happiness before he cuts him off and tells him that Jack is almost home, and that they’ll meet up sometime soon at the supermarket. Vasquez can’t help but feel sorry for Rhys, and normally, if it had been about a year or so ago, he wouldn’t have cared, but he was Vaughn’s best friend, so there was that, too. Vasquez lets Vaughn have his bed, and he moves to the couch, where he turns on the TV for background noise as he finally falls asleep.

And a few days later, they’re planning on meeting up with Rhys, and just like he said he would, Rhys shows up, right on time, and Vaughn is more than happy to see him, hugging him tightly and nearly knocking him down, and Rhys is crying, crying because he’s happy to see Vaughn, and hell, at this point, he’s happy to see Vasquez too, but he wouldn’t dare touch him. Rhys looks at the dark-haired man and nods, “Thank you for finding Vaughn. I’m happy.” And Rhys knows that his reunion with them can’t be too long, though Jack seemed to be pretty busy with whatever it was that he was typing up on his computer. Rhys was an expert at being able to zoom through a store and grab exactly what he was looking for, and he knew the store like the back of his hand.

“So, Vasquez actually told me that you and Jack are, well, still together.” And Rhys’s heart feels numb, because he might have imagined it, but Vaughn sounded a bit defeated. He looks up at Rhys and smiles, “But are you happy? I mean, look, bro, you make terrible decisions, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that, but if you’re happy, then, well, I’m happy.”

Rhys smiles at him and holds his fist out, “Thanks, bro.” And Vaughn fistbumps Rhys enthusiastically while Vasquez watches, a smile on his face, because that’s what Rhys needs, a friend, a shoulder to lean on, and he’s just thankful that Vaughn is alive and he’s  _ here _ , and that’s when he’s snapped out of the trance when Rhys begins to look much paler than he already is, muttering a quick  _ excuse me _ and running to the bathroom. Vaughn sighs and walks over to Vasquez, running his hand up and down the fabric of the light jacket that he’s wearing in a comforting manner, and Vasquez smiles at him. Vaughn knows that it’s awkward for him, and he thanks him for helping him talk to Rhys again.

Rhys comes back a few minutes later, and he looks absolutely worried, but the other two men don’t say anything about it, because Rhys already looks uncomfortable enough. “Uh, guys, sorry, I um, really need to go home now, nothing too bad, just… a little worried.” And that’s when Rhys practically  _ runs  _ out of the store, and he promises Vaughn that they’ll be able to really talk soon.

And Rhys runs right into the house, right past Jack, who spins around to watch him, and he follows Rhys into the bathroom, where the younger man is bent over the toilet, getting sick, and Jack pinches the bridge of his nose and turns the other way. He swallows and turns to Rhys, “No, no, absolutely not. I love you, I really do, but you’d better not be,” Jack says, and he walks away, tension heavy in the air around them. Rhys doubts that he actually would be, but it wasn’t exactly unlikely.

And later, after Rhys feels much better, he’s relaxing on their couch, and Jack’s voice booms from the other room, and Rhys hopes that he’s on the phone, because he doesn’t feel well enough to deal with  _ that _ , that’s for sure. Jack’s walking through the house, and he’s almost  _ stomping _ , screaming into the phone, and he hears a familiar name pass the older man’s lips.

_ Vasquez _ .

Is he talking to Vasquez?

Rhys’s fears are confirmed when he hears Jack eventually hang up, and Jack walks into the room, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes fixed on Rhys, obviously quite annoyed with the situation, and Rhys had a feeling that this was going to be about Vaughn.  _ Oh, please, please, please don’t let him kill my best friend, don’t let him kill him, he pleads in his mind _ , and Jack’s moving closer to him now, and he’s standing in front of him, and he claps his hands together. He’s about to really get it, and he knows he is, because Jack is swallowing, and he’s about to really lay into him.

“Think I wouldn’t find out about Vaughn, Rhysie?” he asks, teeth almost gritting. “You think I don’t know when someone’s not dead? Little bitch probably thinks he played me like a fool, but oh, no, he didn’t. He’s not as slick as he thinks he is, baby.” Jack’s even closer now, and Rhys really, really hopes that Jack isn’t going to go and hurt anyone, because he really doesn’t want to have to deal with any more losses. And Jack places a hand on his shoulder, and Rhys cringes, jumps a bit, and Jack scolds him softly, “No, none of that, Rhysie. I’m not actually that mad, I don’t care, talk to Vaughn, hell, invite him over. I don’t really care.” And Rhys can’t tell if Jack’s being sincere or not, but Jack’s grabbing for his hand, and Rhys realizes just how small his hands actually are compared to Jack’s. 

“Wait, Jack, you aren’t going to kill Vaughn?” Rhys asks, and Jack looks at him, tilts his head to the side and laughs a bit.

“Damn, Rhys, you say that like… like you want me to, y’know, go in and kill him with guns blazing. No, sweetheart, I’m not going to kill Vaughn, I mean that. I might shoot Vasquez in the fucking leg for talking to you behind my back, but that’s it. And he’s not on any kind of police force, by the way.”

“Didn’t think so,” Rhys says, smiling, and he swallows. Everything’s going to be okay, and no one is going to get hurt. Jack looks down at Rhys’s fingers, and he’s tracing over the ring on his hand. Rhys watches, and then he looks away and lets out a breath before asking Jack about what had happened earlier. “Hey, about earlier? What happens if I am?”

Jack kisses Rhys’s hand, “Normally, I would say that I’d kill the kid myself, but nah, I wouldn’t do that to you. How about we cross that bridge when we get to it… If we get to it. I don’t know if I’m even ready for that, to be honest with you.”

“I feel the same way,” Rhys says, and his eyes are on Jack, and how gentle he looks at that moment, and he watches as Jack gets onto his knees and makes his way over to Rhys as he lays his head on his lap, and Rhys swears that it looks super uncomfortable, so he offers Jack the spot next to him on the couch, to which Jack replies that he’s fine with where he’s at, and Rhys takes the opportunity to rake his fingers through Jack’s unruly strands, and he swears that if Jack were a cat, he would have started purring, because Jack looks absolutely peaceful. Rhys decides that it’s a good look for him. He can’t help but feel that something’s changing, and he hopes that it’s a positive change.

“You know,” the younger man says, “I think Vaughn and Vasquez are dating.” Jack is laughing uncontrollably, and he’s actually hitting the couch next to Rhys because he finds it so funny.

“ _ Wallethead _ and Vaughn,” Jack says, and he’s still laughing, and Rhys nods, watching as Jack grabs his stomach and keeps on laughing. Was it really that funny? Not to Rhys, but Jack was getting a kick out of it, and it made Rhys laugh too, because sometimes Jack’s laugh was just contagious. Jack makes the suggestion to invite Vaughn over for dinner, and when Rhys asks if he wants to invite Vasquez, Jack laughs and says no, just Vaughn.

And with Jack’s suggestion, later on, Rhys invites Vaughn over for dinner, and Vaughn is nervous, but he accepts Rhys’s offer, and by six o'clock, there’s a nice dinner prepared, and it’s mostly pasta, but who’s really complaining? Vaughn marvels at the food, placed properly on the table, and he looks over at Rhys, “Bro,  _ bro _ , you know I love mac and cheese.” And Rhys laughs, because Vaughn’s tone is just absolutely stern and serious, and Rhys calls him on it, to which Vaughn responds that he takes his macaroni and cheese very seriously.

“Uh, boys, it’s called  _ Jack and cheese  _ when I make it,” Jack interrupts, and Rhys smiles, then looks back a Vaughn, who laughs at the pun and begins fixing himself a plate of everything. Pasta salad, alfredo, Jack and cheese, and Rhys follows right behind him. And for a long while, Rhys and Vaughn talk and enjoy their dinner, and Jack doesn’t get too involved, staying behind the counter and watching from the kitchen. He likes that the two boys look so happy, and he wondered if Rhys was right about Vaughn and Vasquez being a thing.

After dinner, Jack finally joins the two, and he’s sitting at the table with them, and they’re just talking. Jack can’t remember the last time that he just sat at the table and talked with more than one person, and he guesses that he missed it, because Rhys looks absolutely happy, and Vaughn does too, and Jack smiles to himself, because it’s nice. Vaughn won’t look his direction for too long, and it’s understandable, because he’d tried to kill him, and Jack could live with that.

Rhys and Vaughn eventually move into the sitting room to watch a movie, and Rhys asks Jack if he wants to join him, and he declines, moving upstairs and into the bedroom, leaving the them alone to watch whatever it was that they were watching. He sits down on the bed and sighs, unhinging his mask and sitting it on the bedside table before he rubs his face with his hands. He thinks about Rhys, about him getting sick that morning, and about everything that had gone on. He wasn’t ready for a family, not again. He walked into the bathroom and looked at himself, at the scar on his face, and he swallowed. He was nervous, scared, even. And he hoped that Rhys would bolt into the room at any moment and tell him that it was just a false alarm. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to go through something like he did with Angel.

“ _ Fuck _ .”

Jack’s looking at himself, and he feels tears stinging at his eyes, and he reaches up and tries to get himself to stop, but he can’t, he just keeps thinking about Angel. His Angel. His baby girl, and now, there was a threat of something trying to replace her, and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t have that happen. He wasn’t ready, he would  _ never  _ be ready. He walks back to the bed and lays down, closing his eyes and trying to think of something, of  _ anything  _ else, and eventually, he falls asleep.

When Rhys and Vaughn finally part and he’s locked the doors and made sure everything was in good shape, Rhys walks upstairs and into the dark room, using his cybernetic hand’s flashlight to make his way around so that he wouldn’t have to turn the light on. Jack was already asleep, which was really odd for him. Rhys grabbed his clothing that he had set out to wear and walked into the bathroom to take a quick shower. He pulls his clothing off and gives himself a look in the long mirror. He’s pretty hot, he thinks, and he doesn’t see any sign that he could be pregnant, as far as looks, and that’s a good sign. He’s nowhere near ready to be a parent, and he knows that.

When he crawls into bed, he notices that Jack looks worried, even in his sleep, and that can’t be good for him, Rhys thinks. He moves close to Jack and snuggles up to him, secretly hoping that the older man would somehow wake up so that they could talk like they did earlier that day. Rhys loves spending time with Jack, and he loves it even more when they just have lighthearted conversations. Pillow talk wasn’t Jack’s thing, he knew that much, but he was sure that the older man would humor him if he asked him nicely.

Rhys feels uncomfortable, and he feels the sharpest pain he’s felt in a while, and he knows what it is, and he almost sighs in relief. This was what it was like to actually want for that vicious cycle to start, and Rhys moves carefully from his spot on the bed and into the bathroom, takes care of himself and walks back out and gets back into bed with Jack, who’s actually stirring a bit, and Rhys smiles, excited, hoping that Jack wakes up. He whispers his name, and Jack mumbles a response, and Rhys whispers back that he doesn’t have to worry about “the thing”, as they’ve been calling it. Jack smiles, his eyes still closed, and he places a hand on Rhys’s stomach, mumbling, “Someday, Rhysie, not any time soon though.” 


	11. midnight confession

A long drag of a cigarette, followed by a long, shallow sigh as he finally puts it out, and Jack is walking back into the house. It’s been few weeks since Vaughn’s shown back up in Rhys’s life, and it seemed to have made Rhys happy, even ecstatic when Jack told him that he could come over whenever he liked, and it wasn’t like Rhys needed Jack’s permission, anyway, because Rhys lived there, too. He was trying to be better, trying not to be so controlling, and he just couldn’t manage to do it. He knew that Rhys was into it, anyway, and Jack was into whatever Rhys was into.

He walked back into their bedroom and climbed back into the bed, and Rhys was sound asleep, heavily breathing into the pillow that was clutched in his arms, and Jack smiled at the sight. He rolled onto his side, facing Rhys, and tried to go back to sleep, but it was useless. He was restless, and he sat up again before getting onto his phone, looking for an interesting game to play. It was nights like this that he both loathed and liked, just the two of them, laying in bed together, and even if Rhys was asleep, he could take the time and appreciate him without it being obvious.

His eyes scan over to Rhys and quickly adjust to the dark as he places his phone on the table, giving up on trying to find any entertainment. He rolls onto his side and looks down at him, his messy hair, the way that his body rises and falls, the way he moves around and adjusts. Jack reaches over and tucks a stray lock of hair back as Rhys turns toward him lazily, opening his eyes to look at Jack, and he covers his mouth as he yawns. “Jack…? What time is it?”

“Just a little after two in the morning,” he says, and Rhys groans, flopping around on the bed. Jack laughs and places his index finger to Rhys’s cheek, to which Rhys laughs and swats his hand away. He rolls onto his side, facing Jack now, and he sighs contently as Jack places his hand on his hip. Rhys was happy just being able to lay with Jack, and Jack knew that all too well. He knew, because he knew Rhys well enough to be able to read him, read his emotions, his actions, and Jack knew that Rhys could probably read his too. Jack smiles and moves his foot, nudging at Rhys’s, and Rhys almost snorts, because this is completely new, and Rhys nudges back at him.

He can’t believe that he’s playing footsie with Rhys.

“Can’t believe you wear those socks to bed, though, kiddo,” Jack says, pulling Rhys closer to him, and Rhys laughs in response, telling him that they’re good, comfy socks. Jack places kisses to the port on his temple and feels Rhys squirm a little. “You’re so cute, Rhysie.”

Rhys’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, and it almost does, he thinks, because Jack’s never called him cute before. He’s called things that he’s done cute, but never  _ him _ . Jack quickly realizes what’s going on, and the older man smiles at him, and Rhys can’t get over how beautiful he looks with the moonlight hitting him just right. Beautiful? Rhys mentally slaps himself for that one, but he knows Jack would love that. Jack winks at him, and Rhys makes a low squeaking sound, and he knows that his face has gone red. Jack laughs and leans forward to kiss him, and Rhys eagerly kisses him back.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby?” Jack asks, head still resting on his hand, and Rhys can’t even speak, Jack is much too handsome. It should be illegal for him to even look like that, for him to look at him like that. And Jack smiles at him, an actual smile, and Rhys feels like his heart is going to explode. Jack can’t help but think that Rhys is having a moment. He knew that Rhys was a fanboy, and he knew that no matter how normal it was for him to be around him, Rhys was always going to be his little fanboy. He’d seen the posters, he knows that Rhys has them all. He places a hand on the younger man’s face, and he can actually feel the heat radiating from his face.

“J-Jack, I’m....” Rhys can’t even form words, Jack just looks so perfect right now, so amazing, and Rhys wishes that he could capture the moment forever. Jack traces his thumb over Rhys’s slightly parted lips, and Rhys swallows. “You’re just… really handsome, okay?”

“I am  _ Handsome  _ Jack,” Jack replies, and Rhys groans, moving even closer to Jack so that he can hide his face in the man’s chest. Jack moves to sit up, and he pulls Rhys into his lap, which Rhys completely allows, and Jack has to laugh at how much of a mess Rhys’s hair is at that moment, and Rhys gives him a punch to the arm.

Jack’s heart is beating fast, now, and he’s contemplating saying something that he should have said to Rhys a while back, and though he knows that Rhys knows, he feels like he should actually say it, and he feels like this is the perfect time to say it. It’s after two in the morning, moon’s out, room is lit up beautifully, and Rhys just so happens to be awake and in his arms, so what could be a better time? His fingers play at the exposed skin at Rhys’s hip, and Rhys swallows at the touch, and Jack can almost feel him getting nervous.

“So, cupcake,” Jack begins, and Rhys is pushing his fingers through Jack’s hair, and Jack pulls Rhys even closer to him. “I need to tell you something, and it’s not bad, so don’t go and get your panties in a bunch.” Rhys nods, and he’s looking Jack in the eyes, and oh,  _ god _ , he’s so damn pretty. Rhys doesn’t break the eye contact, and Jack smiles at him and gives him a quick kiss. “I’m gonna keep it short and sweet, okay? I need you to know that I…” His voice is failing him, because he’s actually  _ nervous  _ for a change, and Rhys notices, oh  _ god  _ Rhys notices. Jack swallows, and Rhys runs his fingers through his hair again.

“Take your time, Jack,” Rhys says, and Jack calms down, he breathes in and out, and he relaxes his shoulders, and Rhys moves his hands to rest on them, and he’s massaging them, nice and slow. Jack relaxes more into the touches, and Rhys smiles at him.

Jack leans forward and now his head is on Rhys’s shoulder, and he takes in his scent. This is too much, far too much, and Rhys has Jack wrapped around his finger, and Rhys knows it. Jack swallows and finally speaks after a while of staying right there, his head buried in Rhys’s shoulder. “God damn it, Rhysie, I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and your stupid goddamn socks, your messy hair, your voice, your eyes,” Jack’s rambling now, and Rhys decides to let him have this one, because the man is absolutely vulnerable, and Rhys is honestly just happy that Jack is so open about it at this moment, and he knows he probably won’t hear this again for a while. “I’m in love with you, okay? Got it? Good. Haven’t felt this way in who the hell knows how long.”

Rhys is smiling when Jack finally looks up at him, and he’s smiling like he’s proud of Jack, and no, that’s not how this works, Jack thinks, and he leans forward and kisses Rhys quickly. And he just wants for Rhys to say something, wants for him to tell him  _ something _ to let him know how he feels, though he’s well aware of it. And Rhys leans forward and kisses Jack, and he keeps on kissing him, over and over. “I’m in love with you, too.”

They stay like this for a while, and eventually, they’re both laying back down, right next to each other, and Rhys is smiling at him, still, and Jack is smiling back. It wasn’t so hard, telling Rhys how he felt, because he knew that it’d help Rhys to be comfortable with him, and Rhys leans over toward him and kisses him again before telling him that he’s going back to sleep, and Jack laughs and pulls him close to him, and the two of them manage to finally fall back asleep.


	12. break a mirror, roll the dice

His hands are at his throat, and Jack is in his face, teeth gritted together, and it’s like staring death in the face. He’s clawing at the man’s arms, trying his hardest to just get him  _ off  _ of him, to get him to just  _ let go _ of him, but he  _ can’t _ , he can’t, because he doesn’t  _ want  _ to leave, he doesn’t want to make Jack upset. His eyes are on Jack’s and there’s something there, something that Rhys can’t pinpoint, but it’s new, a  _ spark  _ of some sort, and that’s when things shift, and then Rhys realizes that it’s a dream -- a nightmare, really -- but nonetheless, a dream, and he’s thankful for small miracles, because the dream shifts, and Rhys is able to calm Jack down somehow, and then, there’s someone else there, and Rhys quickly recognizes them, and he assumes that it’s Jack’s daughter. He knew that she had been much older when she passed on, but here, in Rhys’s dream world, she was young and identical to the photo that he’d seen on Jack’s desk.

She runs to Jack, who’s welcoming her with open arms, and he’s hugging her, and something is tugging at Rhys’s heartstrings, and  _ hard _ , because he  _ swears  _ that he’s crying, because _ there she is _ , and she’s  _ hugging  _ Jack, and Jack’s  _ happy _ , and he’s  _ smiling _ , and  _ oh, god, _ it’s a beautiful image, and Rhys wants for it to be like this forever, he wants to see Jack that happy forever and ever, and that’s when he can feel something, something pulling on him, shaking him, even, and that’s when Rhys opens his eyes, and looks up to find Jack hovering above him, a confused expression on his face. When Jack asks him why he’s crying, he’s not even sure if he can answer him, and it feels strange to wake up crying, because he’d only done it one other time in his life that he was aware of.

Rhys can’t answer, he can’t tell him what he was dreaming about. “I… must have had a dream, it must have gotten to me,” he says, and Jack’s got his arm around him, and he insists that he’ll listen to him, listen to everything that he says, and Rhys is glad that Jack is there. He looks down to his hand, and he’s still wearing the ring, and he smiles, because it’s still hard to believe that he’s engaged to Jack, hell, it’s hard to believe that he’s engaged  _ at all _ . Jack is moving now, shifting next to him and eventually standing up, and Rhys checks the clock, and it’s not even four in the morning yet. He yawns and watches as Jack stretches, “We’ve gotta stop meeting up this early.” Jack laughs and begins to walk out of the room Rhys following behind him, and the two of them walk down the stairs and into the kitchen, and Rhys mentally curses the light for being so bright so early in the morning.

“Ah, Rhys, Rhysie, baby,” Jack mumbles, but Rhys can hear him, and Jack grabs a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and begins to sip on it. “Never stop amazing me, alright?” Rhys isn’t sure of what he’s done now, but he’s glad that Jack is happy with him. Jack begins to walk back to their room, and he’s yawning on the way up the stairs, and Rhys wonders if Jack sleeps for more than a few hours at a time. It was a legitimately worrying thing, and Rhys wonders if it would be weird to ask Jack something like that. Once they’re in their room again, Rhys watches as Jack crawls onto the bed and lays back down, resting his hands above his head, and Rhys is right behind him. Jack holds his arm out and calls Rhys over to him quietly, and Rhys lays his head on Jack’s chest, and the older man begins to run his fingers through his hair, and it’s not too much longer before Rhys is asleep again, and Jack finds himself dozing off, too.

The next morning, Jack is standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching as Rhys styles his hair the way that he likes it, and Rhys hasn’t noticed him for the last few minutes, surprisingly, but the sound of Rhys singing a little tune while he does his hair is unbelievably adorable to him. When Rhys finally finishes up and turns to him, he jumps, and Jack swears that Rhys could have gone two feet into the air if he would have actually  _ jumped  _ at the sight of him. He laughs a bit, “Better get Vaughn to cut that soon, you’re growing out.” And Rhys is still looking at him, and his hand is on his chest, right above his heart, and Jack is pointing and laughing, because Rhys looks absolutely terrified, even at this point. He eventually calms down, and Rhys is  _ pouting  _ at him, and Jack can’t remember when the last time Rhys actually pouted at him was.

“God damn it, Jack, you fucking jerk,” Rhys finally moves, and he hits Jack playfully as he walks past him, and Jack looks at him and he’s laughing again.

“I didn’t even do anything! I was right there, and yo-- ahahah! You just jumped and grabbed your chest and you -- ahaha!” Jack is laughing at him, and for some reason, it’s really entertaining for him, so Rhys lets him have this one, and he doesn’t say anything when Jack moves behind him when they’re in the kitchen and he places his head on his shoulder, still shaking with laughter. It couldn’t have been that funny, there was no way. And if, for some reason, it was, Jack wouldn’t let him ever forget about it.

“Aw, don’t be a baby,” Jack says, and he’s got his finger poking at Rhys’s cheek, to which Rhys responds with narrowing his eyes and stepping away from the older man. Rhys would never tell him, but he liked it when Jack picked on him, and he always had, because it was just… Jack. Jack moved in front of Rhys and now the younger man was pinned in front of the counter, but Rhys wasn’t complaining. Jack leans close to him, and he’s smiling, “I’m just being a dick. You forgive me, pumpkin? Baby? Love of my life?” And Rhys’s face turns a bright shade of red, and Jack clicks his tongue, “Yep, thought so.”

Rhys is pushing at Jack, and he’s smiling too, now, “I never said that.” And Rhys gets an idea and begins to tickle Jack, who begins swatting at his hands, and it’s absolutely a wonderful feeling, to be able to do these kinds of things with Jack, Rhys thinks. Jack is pushing at him now, begging for mercy, and Rhys throws his hands up in surrender, telling Jack that he wins this time, but next time, he won’t be so forgiving, as if that threat will really hold up against him.

Later on, Rhys and Vaughn are out together, and the two of them are laughing and having a great time actually catching up at a local bookstore. The outside patio is perfect for them to drink coffee and talk about everything, and Rhys hasn’t felt so relaxed in ages. He leans forward a bit and whispers, “So, Vaughn, are you and Vasquez… y’know…  _ Together _ ?” And Vaughn nearly spits his coffee out at the sudden question, and his cheeks are tinted a light red when he answers him, mumbling a small confirmation, and Rhys definitely wasn’t expecting that. He wouldn’t expect for Vaughn to go after someone like him, and in fact, it was almost weird, but Rhys would never tell Vaughn that, he wouldn’t hurt his feelings. And Vaughn looks at him, watching him, and Rhys knows that he’s about to ask him something just as personal, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for whatever is about to come out of his mouth.

“Bro, you and Jack are engaged, I know, but…” Vaughn’s voice trails off a bit, and he looks at the texture of the iced coffee against the plastic cup before continuing, “Why him? I mean, I know why, but… he hurt you, Rhys. He hurt you really badly. You know what I’m talking about, bro. I’m not going to bring it up after this, but I… I need to know, okay? Just… whatever the answer is, I’m here to talk and listen, and if you ever need to get out, my door’s always open.”

Rhys hangs on to every word that Vaughn says, and his eyes are now fixed on his own coffee, and he’s not really sure of what to say, because he knows that Vaughn is sincere, he knows that Vaughn cares, but he’s not sure about anything anymore, and he’s not sure that Vaughn would be able to listen to him ramble on and on about Jack, because he did it enough as a teenager, and now, he was going to actually marry him. He thinks for a long moment, subconsciously tapping his fingers against the table, and eventually, he runs a finger through his hair and he laughs. It’s a nervous laugh, but it’s still there, and Vaughn is watching him, waiting for his answer. “Well, I…” This is going to be harder than Rhys thought, and he’s bouncing his leg now. “I love him, Vaughn. I mean, really, really love him. Like, head-over-heels in love. I don’t know how to explain it, but… he just makes me happy. He’s just…  _ Jack _ . He has his moments, but we all do, right? He’s not all bad.”

Vaughn stares at him for a long moment, and he’s finished his coffee by now, and Rhys is afraid that Vaughn is actually about to lash out at him about it, but he doesn’t. He frowns and looks at Rhys, “I just can’t help but worry, bro. I know you can handle it, but I’m here for you, okay?” And Rhys nods, watching as Vaughn gets up from his seat to throw his cup away. Rhys begins to drink his a bit more, because the air has actually become awkward, and he’s not one for completely awkward silence with Vaughn, because it usually got way awkward when they both realized that it was awkward, and Rhys feels a sudden change, and yes, it’s really awkward now.

“Bro, I can handle this,” Rhys assures him, and Vaughn smiles at him, nodding. The two of them eventually break the awkward tension that had built up, and before long, they’re laughing again. Vaughn offers to walk around with Rhys, and Rhys wouldn’t turn Vaughn down, especially since he’d always loved to take walks with his best friend. Their conversations seem to be able to go on forever, and they’re never dull, maybe to others, but to them? Never. The two of them part soon, and Vaughn offers to let Vasquez drive him home, but Rhys declines, deciding to take the walking path home. Home wasn’t too far, anyway, and Rhys liked to be able to get out and breathe the fresh air.

He walks down a sidewalk, and he can’t remember last time that he actually did this, because it’s giving him severe nostalgia for his youth, when he would walk to school in the mornings. He sighs, and, looking back on everything he’s gone through, Rhys had to say that he was pretty content with his life, even if it wasn’t exactly ‘perfect’. He keeps on walking, and it’s not long before his phone rings, and it’s Jack, probably trying to see where he’s at. Rhys smiles and answers, and he’s greeted by Jack telling him that he’s worried about him, that it’s been almost five hours, and Rhys tells him about he and Vaughn, and how they were talking about everything, and how he decided to walk home. Jack doesn’t seem pleased with that, and he informs him that it’s about to storm, and Rhys knows that already, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Want me to come and get you?” Jack asks, and Rhys waits for a moment before he finally answers him, telling him that he’ll be home very soon, and he’s actually not too far from home, and Jack tells him to be careful, and they both hang up, and he pushes his phone back into his pocket. He walks a little further, and he’s almost home, just one more block to go, and he doesn’t even pay attention to the sound of a car’s tires skidding, as he thinks that it’s a little way away, but as soon as he turns, he’s been hit, and he’s down on the ground. Rhys screams, and he looks down at his leg, and he nearly passes out just at the sight of it. There’s blood everywhere, and people are starting to stop to see what happened, and Rhys is pretty sure that he sees more blood at this moment, in the mess that is his leg being skinned -- no, even more than that -- up, than he has in his entire life. He soon passes out, the world around him becoming dark.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack’s sitting next to Rhys in the hospital, his fingers massaging at his temples, his brows furrowed in frustration, and he can’t help but feel like he’s losing him. Losing his world, and he’s almost certain that he’s destined to live a miserable life if he does lose him. If only he’d let him pick him up, he probably wouldn’t have wound up hooked to an IV in a hospital, but Jack doesn’t get angry, no, he moves his gaze from the nicely tiled floor to the bed, where Rhys is lying, and he knows that he’s going to have to replace the cybernetic arm. Rhys looks terrible, and Jack just wishes that he’d  _ wake up, _ he just wants to be able to talk to him, to look at his eyes, to comb his fingers through his hair, absolutely  _ anything  _ to keep Rhys safe. He wouldn’t lose him, he absolutely couldn’t. He’s got his hands on his head again, and he feels an oncoming headache. He wants to be angry at Rhys for not listening, but he can’t, he wouldn’t, because Rhys was far too special, too important, and he deserved to be able to walk. And now, he more than likely wouldn’t be able to for a long while.

He isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting in the chair, but it becomes uncomfortable after a while, and he shifts around, trying to become comfortable, and he takes Rhys’s human hand into his own and rubs small circles over the flesh and brings the hand to his lips and kisses it gently. He feels incredibly vulnerable, and he hates it, but this is Rhys, his Rhys, and he didn’t want to ever lose him. He’s afraid, and he’s certain that every doctor and nurse that walk into the room are well aware of that. He feels himself nodding off after a while, and he checks the clock on the wall, and it’s well past one in the morning. He allows himself to fall asleep, still holding Rhys’s hand in his own.

He can feel his arm being shaken, and he wakes up, and the first thing he sees is a nurse leaving the room. His arm is being shaken, and he looks over at the bed, and Rhys is awake, looking at him, his eyes half lidded, and Rhys smiles at him, and chuckles weakly, “We’ve gotta stop meeting so early in the morning, Jack.” Jack’s eyes are wide, and he swallows thickly before he walks over to the bed and plants his face right onto Rhys’s stomach, and he begins to cry, and Rhys has never seen this side of Jack before, and it’s relieving to know that he can be so caring. Jack’s got his fingers intertwined with Rhys’s, and he stands back up, holding the hand so that he can kiss it, over and over, and Rhys is smiling, watching him. “Guess I was pretty stupid, huh? Probably should’ve been paying more attention,” Rhys says quietly, and Jack shushes him, not wanting for him to speak, because he wanted for him to save his energy.

“Shhh, baby, you’re okay,” Jack says, and he leans down and kisses Rhys’s lips gently, and Rhys is kissing him back, a slow and steady kiss, but with just as much passion, and Jack is handling him with such care that Rhys begins to worry, because Jack hasn’t really stopped crying yet, and his voice is cracking a bit. He leans up a bit and tugs at the older man’s hand, and Jack leans close to him again for another kiss, and Rhys is kissing him, leaning up and into it as much as he can, and he whispers to Jack, telling him that he loves him.

“I love you, too,” Jack says, and it sounds so absolutely sincere and serene that Rhys can barely believe it, and Jack swallows, “Don’t leave me, Rhysie, don’t leave me, baby,  _ please _ , no.” And at that moment, Jack sounds so worried and scared that Rhys begins to feel a bit emotional himself, and he feels the tears stinging at his eyes. He doesn’t think he’s dying, but to even think about having to leave Jack like that was heartbreaking, and he never wanted for it to happen. Jack reaches up and strokes Rhys’s face softly, and the younger man leans into the touch, his eyes focused on Jack’s own, and he smiles at Rhys, who smiles right back at him.

And that’s when everything seems to change.

 

* * *

 

 

When they finally get home, Rhys has mostly recovered, other than having to walk with crutches when he’s moving long distances, and Jack’s set up a bed for the two of them in one of the unused downstairs rooms so that it’s easier for Rhys to navigate. Jack is looking into the downstairs bathroom’s mirror, and he’s raking his fingers down his face, and he thinks back on everything. How many times had he almost lost Rhys now? It had been eating him alive since the accident, and while Rhys was comfortable in their new bedroom, Jack couldn’t stop  _ thinking _ , and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling a certain kind of pain in his heart, and he wasn’t even sure of how to talk about it, and he wasn’t going to, because Rhys was already trying his hardest, and he was too. Just the  _ thought  _ of losing Rhys was going to  _ kill  _ him.

And Jack’s eyes trace over his own face in the mirror, and he focuses on the scar on his face for a moment, and his eyes linger for just a bit too long. He doesn’t want to lose Rhys, doesn’t want to lose him. He can’t, won’t lose him, and just for a moment, he’s thinking, thinking of the best way to keep Rhys forever, and he has an idea, He walks out of the bathroom and up the stairs, to the room where he usually did his work at home. He fumbled around with things on his desk, and he finally found what he was looking for, a drive, where he would make a copy of Rhys, and he wouldn’t ever lose him, because he was his, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He makes his way back down the stairs and walks into the other bedroom, where Rhys was using a translucent ECHO tablet, probably watching videos or something, and he leans against the doorframe. Rhys looks over at him, immediately putting the device down, and he smiles at him. “Hey,” Rhys says, and he’s looking at the device in Jack’s hand, and his eyes widen. “What’s that, Jack?”

“Oh, honey,  _ this _ … This is called insurance, and I’m gonna copy your data onto this, okay? Gonna make a little AI of you,” and Rhys is staring at Jack, and Jack’s not sure if he’s happy or absolutely terrified as he steps closer to him. Jack smiles at him and kisses his port before he inserts the drive into it, and Rhys freezes for a moment, and not thirty seconds later, Jack pulls the drive back out. “Now, I’m going to make sure that you stay safe. And this time, if you die for some reason, I’m gonna put  _ you  _ in  _ my  _ brain this time.”

“Jack… what is….” Rhys wants to ask him why he’s doing all of this now, but he doesn’t. He figures that it’s something in Jack’s mind, something telling him that he’s got to protect Rhys, and Rhys certainly hopes that that’s it, because he doesn’t want for Jack to keep him from going back out into the world, though he’s also fairly certain that that could definitely happen. Jack smiles at him and leans down, giving him a small kiss, and he exits the room, heading back into his work room. He places the drive on the desk and sighs contently. He wasn’t going to ever lose Rhys now. He’d always find a way to bring him back. He takes a seat at the desk and begins to work on something, something that he’d been putting off. He’d learned recently how to program an AI, and that’s what he’d spend the rest of his night doing, more than likely.

He walks back downstairs after a while, and he’s made great timing, because it’s not too late, and Rhys is still awake, but now he’s laying down in their bed, lights already off, and Jack walks into the room and lays down next to him. Rhys is watching some strange reality show, and Jack can’t say that he’s surprised, because Rhys loves to watch them every now and then. Rhys moves closer to him, placing his head on Jack’s shoulder, and Jack moves his arm and places it around Rhys’s shoulders, holding him close. Rhys’s hair is messy, Jack notices, and he’s wearing one of Jack’s shirts. Jack rests his head on top of Rhys’s and sighs, “You just… never stop amazing me, Rhysie.”

And soon, the two of them are ignoring whatever it was that Rhys was watching on the television, and Jack is kissing him, and Rhys is kissing back with just as much force as Jack is using, his hands combing through Jack’s hair, and the two of them part for just a moment, and Jack’s looking at him, his eyes half-lidded, and Rhys is looking up at him, and Jack thinks that it should be illegal to be that adorable. Jack leans down, right next to Rhys’s ear, and Rhys is already shuddering from the feeling, because it’s been awhile since they’d been this intimate, and the older man whispers to him, voice low, “Can I…?” His fingers are traveling down to his panties, and Rhys swallows, looking up at him.

“Please, Jack, please,” his voice is so sweet, so soft at that moment, “just be careful, because my leg is still hurt.” And Jack hums in response as his fingers move to rub Rhys’s most sensitive area through the panties, and Rhys is already arching up into the touch, letting out a soft moan. Jack kisses at the younger man’s neck, and Rhys is almost certain that Jack is enjoying it way too much when Jack tells him that it’s been  _ so long _ , and he leans up, moving to take off the panties slowly, carefully minding that Rhys’s leg is injured, and Rhys almost hisses as he feels himself being exposed, his folds already damp from Jack’s ministrations. And it’s not long at all before Jack is right between Rhys’s legs, admiring him, and it makes Rhys’s face heat up quickly, because the attention is all on him, and Jack almost makes a show of parting his lips and putting them back together, and Rhys is leaning into every touch.

Jack finally spreads them apart and he looks up at Rhys, a smile on his face, “Already so wet for me, aren’t you?” And Rhys responds with a whine, placing his hand on Jack’s head as he tries to push him down, and Jack lets him, because Rhys’s desperation is almost too cute. He flattens his tongue, moving it over Rhys once, and the younger man is already shaking. He moves his lips over his clit and he begins to suck on it, slowly, almost agonizingly so, and Rhys is moaning, leaning up, trying to let Jack taste more of him, and Jack is more than willing to oblige, moving his tongue quickly, then slowly as he pushes his tongue inside of Rhys, and Rhys cries out, “J-Jack, please… don’t stop.” Jack keeps moving his tongue, right over his clit, over and over, and Rhys is moving his hips against Jack’s mouth, and soon, he finally finds release, and Jack stays in place, cleaning Rhys up, and Rhys sighs as Jack leaves his folds, wiping his face with his hand and then licking it clean.

Rhys whispers, telling him that he loves him as Jack lays down next to him, and Jack runs his fingers through Rhys’s hair, kissing his temple as he whispers that he loves him too. And Rhys is smiling, eyes on the television, but his mind anywhere but there, and Jack is looking down at him, watching as Rhys falls into a gentle sleep. He kisses the top of Rhys’s head, mumbling sweet nothings that Rhys can’t even hear, but it felt good to say them anyway. He’s eventually sleeping himself, his eyes drifting shut after a few minutes of nuzzling into Rhys’s messy hair.


	13. give you the gun, blow me away

“You know, I’m only doing this because I love you,” Jack says, and his fingers trace along Rhys’s jawline slowly, gently, and it sends a chill down the younger man’s spine. Rhys nods his head slowly in response, and Jack is more than pleased with him, looking over the notes that he’s taken again, looking over each answer carefully, and Rhys is watching him, noting the drastic change that had come over Jack as of late, and Rhys could do nothing but blame himself, because it was all his fault, all because he was stubborn and he decided to walk home. He rests his head on the pillow again, just as he’d been doing for the last few days, and Jack administers the painkillers to him, and Jack is whispering to him, telling him that he’s going to feel much better soon, and Rhys believes him. He sees the change coming over Jack, and that’s when he tries to magically will his leg better somehow, because he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like when Jack is right there, pushing the drive into his port, collecting information on him day after day.

Jack eventually pulls the drive out of his port, and Rhys gasps at the feeling, and Jack kisses him on his temple, whispering that he loves him oh so much, and Rhys smiles at him, telling him that he loves him too. His eyes are focused on Jack, and just before the older man leaves, he turns the lights out and gives Rhys a wink, telling him that he’d be back soon, but something inside of Rhys tells him that when he comes back, he’ll already be long asleep, because the medicine is already starting to affect him, sending him into a drowsy state. He looks over to the clock, and it’s already way too late at night, and the amount of time that Jack spent working on the AI was absolutely unhealthy. Everything feels too slow and Rhys realizes that he can’t feel anything as he finally drifts off to sleep.

When he wakes up in a few hours, Jack is next to him in their bed, in their downstairs bedroom, and Rhys looks over at him, eyes half-lidded, as Jack wraps his arms around him, holding him as close as he can without making Rhys move his leg any, not wanting to risk injuring it further. His lips are gentle and soft at Rhys’s neck, and Rhys places his arms around Jack, and he wonders if Jack really has snapped, if he’s really started to change, or if it’s just the drugs affecting him. In fact, he was actually beginning to think that he  _ was  _ changing, because he didn’t  _ want  _ the drugs, didn’t like the feeling of losing control, of Jack having to do everything for him. Jack’s eyes are on his own, and he’s smiling, and he asks him if he’s feeling good, and Rhys can only respond by saying that he feels light and floaty, and Jack chuckles as he kisses a line down Rhys’s neck and he stops right above his collarbone, nipping at the sensitive flesh, sending a shudder through Rhys’s body.

And Rhys feels like he’s turning into jelly, losing all control of himself, and Jack is enjoying it far too much, tracing his fingers along his entire body, and then he moves down to Rhys’s leg and examines it, removing the cast, a long hum drawing from his lips as he studies it, and he eventually places the cast back on his leg. “Looks like you’re healing up pretty well, Rhysie, I’m proud of you.” Rhys smiles at the praise and he lifts his arm up and toward Jack, his words slurring as he tells him to come back to him, and Jack shakes his head, a small chuckle falling from his lips as he moves back to his original position, holding Rhys close to him. The younger male relaxes into Jack, and Jack makes himself busy with running his fingers through his hair slowly, gently, and Rhys is asleep again very soon, his breathing turning shallow and steady.

The next day, Jack and Rhys both sleep in, the two of them snuggled together, Rhys’s head on Jack’s chest and Jack’s arm snug around Rhys, holding him closely. Rhys is the first one up, and he feels oddly content and comfortable, trying his best to get out of the bed without waking Jack up, and he succeeds, hobbling along and into the kitchen, where he began to make himself some toast, because he couldn’t even remember the last time that he ate. He knows that he probably has, but he just can’t remember. Probably something to do with the medicine, he thinks, and at that moment, his toast is finally finished, and he finds himself devouring it quickly. He sighs, satisfied, because that was probably the best piece of toast that he had ever made.

Jack still hasn’t stirred, and Rhys is laying back in the bed before long, staring at the television, watching something about the universe. And after a while, Jack finally wakes up, and the exhaustion, which had been present on his face before, had faded a bit, and he looks over at Rhys, smiling. He leans up and gives him a kiss, “G’mornin’, pumpkin.” Rhys smiles and kisses the older man back, his eyes fluttering closed.

“What are you going to do today?” Rhys asks him, watching as Jack gathers his clothing from the small laundry basket that he’d put in place for convenience’s sake when he had been setting up the room for the two of them to use while Rhys’s leg was in the process of healing. Rhys should have guessed that Jack hadn’t had time for much else lately, as he’d been up for several nights working. The older man responds with a shrug at first, followed by a comment on how he has  _ got  _ to take a shower. He sends a wink Rhys’s way, asking him if he’d like to come along, to which Rhys shakes his head, telling him that if he fell in the shower he would never forgive himself. Jack seems to get a small kick out of that, and he chuckles, telling Rhys that he could at least come and sit in the room with him, just in case he needed him before he got out, and Rhys shrugs in response, muttering a  _ ‘sure’  _ and following behind Jack closely.

Jack hadn’t really asked him to tag along like that in forever, and Rhys was a bit shocked at the sudden change, because the last time that Jack had been this clingy toward him was in the beginning of their relationship, but he did his best to ignore it. They enter their bathroom together, and Rhys takes a seat on the toilet, watching as Jack makes a show of stripping himself down before finally getting into the shower, and for what feels like forever, Rhys sits there, watching as steam seems to just roll out of the shower and into the air, and it’s warm and comfortable to him. Once Jack is out of the shower and dressed, the two of them are back in their bedroom, and Jack is kissing Rhys slowly as he’s pushing a drive into Rhys’s temple again, and Rhys’s eyes widen, and he’s suddenly aware of what’s going on.

Jack has definitely changed, but so has he.

The pressure of Jack pushing down on him kissing him, touching him, is almost too much to bear, but even so, Rhys is still leaning into it, kissing Jack back with just as much passion as ever, and the drive in his port is doing something to him, driving him wild, and he realizes that Jack is more than likely recording data for his own use, and for some reason, Rhys is okay with that, but he just wishes that it didn’t feel so strange. He wishes that he and Jack could go back to how things used to be, but he knew that it was nearly impossible. Something about the accident had changed Jack, and Rhys wasn’t sure why. He had only seen Jack cry once, and that was at the hospital, but he had certainly felt tears on his shoulder before. Jack was afraid of losing him, and that was the simplest way to put it into words. But it ran so much deeper than that, and Rhys knew that.

And before he knew, it, the kiss had been broken and Jack was gone again, leaving Rhys speechless. Rhys doesn’t see Jack for a while after that, and he knows that Jack must be close to a milestone in his work, because it seemed like Jack never stopped working as of late. Rhys looks down at his fingers, at his hands, and he looks at the ring, the symbol of the promise that he had made to Jack, and he brings his hand up to his lips, kissing it softly. He and Jack would be okay, he just knew that they would, but there was still a shadow of a doubt creeping in the back of his mind, because Jack wasn’t being the Jack that he was before the accident, and Rhys couldn’t help but to blame himself for it all.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Jack was really okay. He couldn’t help but feel like he had a part in all of this, whatever this was, because Jack was definitely changing. He was becoming clingier, more attached, and it seemed to Rhys like he was becoming obsessive. And late that night, Jack eventually shows back up, and he’s hugging Rhys, whispering for him to not let him go, and the younger man smiles, telling Jack that he’s not going to let go, and the older man sighs into his ear, happy to hear Rhys say it. Jack smiles at Rhys as he eventually collapses into the bed, letting the exhaustion kick in as he finally drifts off to sleep, mumbling something about Rhys being his.

And Rhys swears that he can hear an echo of it in his own mind.


	14. dearly beloved

It feels like it’s been forever, and it may as well have been, when Rhys is finally able to move without worrying about his leg being hurt or falling down and injuring it again. He feels free, and he’s not sure why, but it feels strangely calm in their home, and for days, Jack had been in his work room, pulling all nighters and working on several things that Rhys is pretty sure that the older man had been putting off. Jack had been acting particularly strange since the accident, and it was no surprise that Jack had been so clingy as of late. Rhys questioned him over and over about the AI, asking him if it’s going to actually be him, or if it’s just going to be some sort of copy, and Jack, though he didn’t like any of the questions, ignored Rhys for the most part and went back to work, but Rhys knew better. He knew that Jack was going to say something to him about it later.

Rhys looks at the clock, and it’s getting way too late, so he decides to finally go to sleep, but something is  _ missing _ , and Rhys can’t help but worry that Jack is becoming a bit too obsessed with this project of his, and the younger man sighs as he hears the door opening in the distance, because maybe, just maybe, Jack can stop obsessing over creating the perfect AI of, well, him. Wait… Rhys was actually jealous over Jack paying more attention to something else? No, no, not him, no. He couldn’t be. In fact, he’s relieved when he hears the door shut again, and Rhys is more than happy about it.

_ Ohhhh, god _ . He’s lying to himself and he knows it. He is a dirty liar, and when the door opens one more time, Rhys confirms his liar status for himself as he hears Jack walking toward the room, and his heart flutters. The older man practically flops onto the bed and looks up at Rhys, exhaustion very much apparent, and Rhys smiles at him, adjusting on his side of the bed as Jack lays next to him. He looks over to Rhys and takes his hand, “It’s done, it’s finally done. I tested it. It’s perfect.”

Rhys nods, “So, you’re done now, right?” And Jack reassures him, nodding his head, and he looks so pleased and happy with himself, Rhys can’t help but feel like something is completely off with Jack. Ever since the accident, he’s been acting much different around him, and it’s not exactly a comfortable feeling, and in fact, it was actually baring down on him like a weight that was far too heavy. The more obsessive Jack became over him, the worse it became, and Jack, at this moment, was probably the most sane that he’d seen him, and now, Jack was kissing him, and Rhys was almost reluctant, but the feeling quickly faded, and Rhys was kissing Jack back now, and when they part, Rhys feels like he’s staring into the eyes of someone else. Rhys’s eyes divert their attention to his own hands, shaking, trembling, and he’s afraid, he’s  _ afraid  _ of the look that Jack is giving him, afraid of his intentions. This look is the same look that he’d had so long ago, the same look as when he’d killed the person that Rhys had cherished the most. The same look as when he had killed Cassius.

All Rhys needed was someone to talk to, someone to listen to what was happening, what Jack was doing to him, and there’s something that snaps in Rhys’s mind, back to what Vaughn had said, back to how scared he had been, and in the back of his mind, Rhys knew, he knew that he wasn’t strong enough. He knows, and yet, he still stands by Jack, still makes excuses, to himself and others, and he knows that he’s trying, he’s trying to make everything work, but he just can’t. He can’t stand the thoughts, and the flashbacks that he’s having bring him into a state of panic, because he’s been hit by something, and he quickly decides that that must be his voice of reason returning, but why now? Rhys is shaking, his teeth clattering together, and Jack is just staring at him, amused, Rhys figures, because he hasn’t changed, there’s  _ no way _ that he has, and Rhys feels like this is him being absolutely angry with himself that he couldn’t see things for what they were, and that was pure manipulation.

_ Oh _ .

Jack’s mouth seems to twist into a smile, and it’s as if everything is crystal clear. As if Jack knew what he was thinking, and Rhys absolutely wanted to cry, and he felt like he would start crying soon enough. Jack’s voice was loud,  _ booming _ , and it wasn’t coming from Jack’s mouth, but from inside of Rhys’s head, and Rhys couldn’t help but place his hands to his head, because it hurt, it hurt so much, and he wanted  _ \--needed--  _ to get out of there. He needed to leave, he needed to call Vaughn, call Timothy…  _ anyone _ . And that’s when he moves to leave, and Jack snatches him right back down, onto the bed.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jack asks him, and it’s plain as day what’s happening, and the older man leans down, lips brushing over Rhys’s own, and he whispers to him calmly, but the malice in his voice is all too apparent. “I created the AI as a backup plan, Rhysie, you  _ can’t  _ leave me. You think I’d go through all of that bullshit for  _ nothing _ ?”

“How can you just sit there and act like you’re not in my head at the same time as this is happening?!” Rhys is almost screaming, his voice is panicked, and Jack’s hands come to rest at his shoulders, holding him in place. Rhys is almost crying now, and when Jack gives him an  _ ‘Aww’  _ and Rhys absolutely wants to punch him, because there is no way that this is supposed to be happening. He loves Jack, and Jack loves him, so why is this happening? He breathes deeply, breathes in and out slowly, so slowly, and he’s calming himself down, and Jack’s still got him in place, looking down at him. “I’m… I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry.”

“I  _ do  _ love you, if you’re about to question me,” Jack says, and he’s tracing small lines on Rhys’s neck, and the younger man shivers at the touch, leaning up and into it, and Jack’s chuckling. “You know, Rhysie, you just… You’re so… Huh. I don’t have a word for this one, but basically, you’re mine. You know that, right pumpkin?” Rhys nods, and Jack leans down, “Good. Now say it, tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m  _ yours _ ,” Rhys says, and he’s getting nervous, because there’s still something in Jack’s eyes that he really, really doesn’t like, and he can’t put his finger on it. And Jack is just staring at him, and it’s an unnerving stare, as if he’s ripping him apart, as if he knows everything about him, as if he’s going to absolutely destroy him. Something’s snapped, something happened, Rhys isn’t sure what, but he knows, and he knows that Jack is more than likely manipulating him right now, and in fact, he’s sure of it. He’s going to leave, he knows it, subconsciously, and he’s not even surprised when Jack’s thumbs are pressing  _ down _ and his eyes are wild.

Jack sighs, and he seems frustrated, but he’s smiling, and he’s holding Rhys down, his weight suddenly very heavy on his slender body. “You are just  _ amazing _ , Rhysie!” Jack’s smile never fades, and Rhys can feel something shifting again, something that’s telling him to fight back, to move, to do  _ something _ , and it’s almost painful, how much he wants to go back to before the accident, before this whole change happened. Jack’s not letting up as he usually does, and Rhys feels himself almost blacking out, and he claws at Jack’s arms, trying to reach up and grab something, anything to get him distracted, get him to move off of him, and Jack’s  _ laughing _ . Rhys finally manages to grab at the collar of Jack’s shirt, and he pulls as hard as he can with both his cybernetic and his human arm, and Jack’s grip loosens and he’s almost right on top of him, and that’s when Rhys  _ shoves _ .

He’s running as fast as he can, head swimming from almost passing out, and he hears Jack beginning to run after him, and Rhys tears out the front door, moving quickly, running as far away as he can, blocks away, before he stops to take a short breather, and he can hear Jack in the distance, calling his name and then he hears a gunshot, followed by Jack practically singing for him.  _ Already? _ Rhys thinks, and he takes off, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and he swears that he can hear Jack, in his head, and he’s telling him how he won’t get away, how he’s his, and he’ll always be his. Rhys is scared, and he  _ kind of _ wants to absolutely slap himself for not waking up any sooner, for not realizing what was really happening, and he knows that he won’t get away. It’s dark, but Rhys is managing to move pretty quickly, and he’s so glad that he’s not wearing shoes, because his feet would be killing him had he been wearing his favorite skagskin shoes.

And soon, much later, after successfully getting away from Jack for at least a little while, Rhys is at Timothy’s front door, because Vaughn is much farther away, and Timothy lets him in, and he almost looks relieved that he’s there. Rhys quickly pulls his cell phone out, and he’s calling Vaughn, hoping that he answers, because he hadn’t realized that it was damn near three in the morning. And when Vaughn answers, Rhys immediately starts crying, telling him what was going on, how Jack had made plans to create an AI of him, and how Rhys had actually let him copy his information, everything, and Timothy, listening, places his fingers to his temples, and Rhys notices him, notices how distressed he looks.

“You’ve gotta get outta here, kiddo,” Timothy says, and as if right on cue, there’s a loud banging at the door, and Jack is screaming for Timothy to answer the door, because he knows that Rhys is there, and Rhys knows that there’s nowhere for him to go, knows that it’s useless to run. And Timothy hands Rhys a knife and tells him to go out the back door and to disconnect the cybernetics, and Rhys knows exactly what’s about to happen, and he really, really doesn’t want to see Timothy sacrifice himself for him. He doesn’t want to, couldn’t handle it, and Jack’s threats begin to become more and more colorful the longer he waits, and Timothy is practically pushing him through the back door, telling him to run, and fast.

“Come with me, please,” Rhys is begging, and Timothy gives him a soft smile, his eyes glassy, and Rhys feels like he’s about to cry again. He grabs onto Timothy’s jacket, tugging at him, “Please, Timothy,” his voice is cracking now, “please, please, Timothy, please come with me, don’t let me go by myself.” Timothy places his hands to Rhys’s face, and their foreheads are touching, Timothy’s fingers linger for just a few seconds too long, because Jack is screaming inside of Rhys’s head, and Rhys grabs Timothy by the arm, Jack still shouting through the door, and eventually, he’s trying to break it down, and Rhys clears his throat before pulling Timothy along with him, “You don’t get to choose now, we’re going!”

And the two of them are running now, and Rhys tells Timothy of how Vaughn is going to meet up with them at one of the gas stations, and he doesn’t specify which one, even with Timothy asking him over and over. Rhys swallows, and the two of them round the corner just before they hear Jack in the distance, screaming that it’s really cute that Timothy thinks that he can be the hero. This earns a sigh from Timothy, and he turns to Rhys, who’s still got the knife in his hand, “Rhys, cybernetics, now. Tell me when you’re finished, okay? I’m gonna try to hold him off, okay?” And Rhys understands, oh, he understands, and he’s fast at work, removing the ECHO eye quickly, and  _ oh, god _ , does it hurt. He can hear the gunshots ringing out, and Timothy’s urging him on, urging him to hurry up. Jack’s yelling is directed at him now. “Ya hear that, Rhysie? Hurry up so that he can save his own ass! He doesn’t fucking care about you like I do!”

His arm takes just a bit longer, because he’s got to cut the wires to keep Jack from being in his system at all, and Rhys is able to shut the cybernetics down with just enough time to keep Timothy from being shot down by Jack, and the two of them are running again, and Jack is almost  _ too  _ close to them. Rhys is the person that makes the suggestion of running in the zigzag pattern, and they’re doing well to avoid being shot, until Jack actually hits Rhys, and Timothy’s quick to grab the younger man, pick him up and duck off down an alleyway and through to the apartments. Rhys is almost certain that death is coming now. He’s pretty sure that he’s got blood on the bottom of his bare feet, and he’s sure that the bullet is deep within his lower back, blood seeping out of the wound, and he’s sweating, breathing deeply, and Timothy is looking at the wound, hissing. “F-Fuck, Rhys, this is bad…” His eyes are wide, and Rhys can hear Jack in the distance again, and he knows that they have got to move. Timothy is quick to pull a trauma pad out of a pocket in his jacket, lifting Rhys’s shirt up quickly and placing the pad on top of the wound, “This will hold for a few hours, but you’ve gotta get treatment soon.”

“Timothy, thank you so much for coming with me, just leave me here to die. This is my fault,” Rhys is crying again, and he’s shocked when Timothy actually hauls off and  _ slaps  _ him, hard. He’s got his hands at Rhys’s shoulders, and he’s telling him not to worry, because he’s got him, and Rhys feels so thankful for small miracles. Small miracles named Timothy Lawrence, that is, and he’s shocked when Timothy picks him up, into his arms, and Rhys has his arms around his neck. Timothy tells Rhys not to worry, and he’s running with him, and he runs fast, quickly approaching the neighborhood that Vaughn lives in, and he’s running to the nearest gas station, and Rhys is almost sobbing with relief when he sees Vaughn and Vasquez. Rhys’s eyes are welling with tears, and Vaughn is smiling, glad that he’s okay. Vasquez notices the blood first, and he alerts Vaughn quietly, and Vaughn tells them to get into the car.

“It’s a rental,” Vasquez says as the drive off, and Rhys is almost certain that he’s about to pass out. He’s sitting in the back seat with Vaughn and Timothy, and Timothy is doing his best to examine his wounds in the dark, to no avail. “He won’t be able to find us this way. We’re gonna have to get the fuck outta here, though.” And Vasquez is speeding off, and Vaughn is telling him that the first thing that they have to do when they get to where ever it is that they’re going is get Rhys into a hospital, and Vasquez agrees, telling Rhys that he was going to be fine, because they were there, and Rhys is sobbing, and he notices that Vaughn’s got one of his hands in his own, and he’s almost  _ squeezing  _ it. Timothy checks the time, and it’s almost four now. He’s whispering to Rhys, telling him that it would be alright, and Rhys can’t help but sob, because he doesn’t know  _ what went wrong _ . He swears that he’s broken, and he hates himself for it, because he still loves Jack, even as he’s got  _ friends  _ surrounding him, taking him away from him.

How was he this desperate for Jack, anyway? The man was really trying to  _ kill him _ now, and yet, he still swore his love to him, although he would never tell anyone that. He couldn’t, because Vaughn already looked like he was daring him to say anything about Jack, to say anything to  _ defend him _ , and Rhys wasn’t even willing to fight anymore, he just knew that they needed to get away from him so that no one would die. He was surprised that they’d made it this far, if he was being honest with himself. But maybe, just maybe, Jack was giving them the opportunity to run for a reason, maybe Jack couldn’t control himself-- and Rhys was starting to hate himself a bit more for defending him even as he’s escaping.

When they’re far out of the way of any distance that Jack could walk and actually  _ find  _ them, the group checks into a hotel, reserving their spot for when they came back from the hospital. Timothy looks over at Rhys, who immediately lays down on the bed, on his stomach, and actually begins to sob. Vaughn walks over to Rhys, placing a hand on his shoulder and then telling him that he’s got to go to the hospital, and Rhys, a mess, replies to him, telling him that he doesn’t know about that, because then he’ll have to stay in recovery, and he’s not sure of how he’s going to fare with that. Timothy sighs, walking over to Rhys and lifting his legs up, looking at the bottom of his feet, and it was as Timothy had thought. “Let’s just go, we’ve gotta get you feet looked at too, I bet you’ve got some glass stuck in here. Let me bandage it up, okay?” He makes quick work of disinfecting and  patching up the younger man’s wounds, and Rhys is whining, complaining that it really hurts, and Timothy shushes him as he finishes up.

Once again, Rhys is absolutely thankful for small miracles.

“We’ll bust you out of there if we need to,” Vasquez interjects, and he’s completely serious. “Rhys, look, you’re scared, we know, but we’ll always be here to protect you, okay? Now, let’s go.” Vaughn and Timothy both help Rhys up, and his eyes are red, more than likely from all of the crying that he’d been doing. If there was anything that Vaughn knew about Rhys, it was that he wasn’t great with pain, and he could possibly pass out at any moment if the adrenaline was wearing off. When they eventually get Rhys into the car, it isn’t long before they arrive at the hospital, and not long before Rhys is being taken care of. Vaughn is nervous, looking around at all of the faces in the unfamiliar room, and he can hear Vasquez beginning to hum a tune. Timothy’s leg seems to be bouncing uncontrollably, and Vaughn decides that they should probably just breathe, because they were going to be absolutely fine.

Within a week, the group finally gets Rhys back to the hotel room, and Rhys collapses on the bed as soon as he’s in the cool room. He sighs as his back hits the sheets, and he feels comfortable for the first time in forever, and Vaughn smiles at him. Rhys yawns softly, and he pulls the blankets over his body, telling everyone that he was going to sleep for just a little while, and they were more than happy to let Rhys indulge in his first real opportunity to catch up on his sleep. Timothy watches him as he closes his eyes, and Rhys wants so badly for Timothy to come and sleep next to him, because he hates himself, because he wishes that things didn’t have to go this far, wishes that he and Jack could just be okay.

And he eventually falls asleep, and he’s grabbing at the pillow, holding onto it for dear life, and Vaughn is the first to notice. His expression quickly moves from being happy for Rhys to being absolutely worried about him. He knows what Rhys is thinking about, and he knows that he needs to be patient for his best friend, but it was so hard when Rhys was willing to do anything for Jack, even now. Even after he fled from him, even after Jack had actually shot him. Vaughn couldn’t understand his best friend sometimes. He really, really wished that Rhys could just let him go, but something told him that it was going to take a lot more for Rhys to finally leave Jack mentally. Vasquez kisses Vaughn on top of the head as he passes him, whispering that he and Timothy were going to smoke on the balcony, and Vaughn nodded. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even aware of a balcony being there.

It’s not too much longer before Vaughn is laying down next to Rhys, and  _ he’s  _ actually the one crying now. How many times had he almost lost Rhys now? Vaughn had lost count, and he manages to move even closer to the taller man, placing his head on his shoulder while he sobs, and he doesn’t expect Rhys to move and roll over to look at him, his eyes focused on Vaughn’s own. Vaughn moves his hands to wipe his eyes, and Rhys is trying to calm him down, and the two of them sit up, and Vaughn is immediately hugging Rhys. “I’m just so happy you’re okay, bro.” Vaughn’s voice is the quietest that Rhys has ever heard, and Rhys hugs Vaughn back, holding onto him as tightly as he can with his human arm while Vaughn continues crying again.

Everything seems to be fine, and for the longest time, it seems like time stops, and the four of them seem to be stuck in one spot. Vasquez tells them that they should probably move in the morning, because they’d been in one place for too long, and if Jack was going to come looking, he would eventually find them. This strikes panic into Rhys, who immediately begins to cry again, and Vaughn shoots Vasquez a  _ look _ , to which the older man responds that it’s a serious situation, and one that Rhys had gotten himself into. Rhys is curled up now, hand against his head, and Timothy is beside him, holding onto his shoulders, hoping to calm him down. Vaughn and Vasquez are almost screaming at each other, and eventually, everything manages to die down, and Rhys is almost certain that something inside of his mind is screaming at him, begging for him to come home.

“Hey, guys,” Rhys finally says, his voice shaky, and he’s looking more at Timothy than anyone else at this point, “I need to go down to the vending machines, you know, grab a candy bar or something.” Vaughn looks at him, confused, and Rhys swallows, stating that he just needs some fresh air, to get away for a moment to be by himself, and Timothy comments that he doesn’t think that that’s the safest bet at the moment, but Rhys waves him off, telling him that he’ll be fine.

“Yeah,” Vasquez snaps, “you’re wearing your goddamn night clothes and no shoes, your hair's a mess, but you’re gonna be okay. You’re fine, Rhys. You look like someone who’s too close to doing something stupid to me.”

“Can it, Hugo!” Vaughn says, and his voice is low. “Let Rhys just have this, okay? He’ll be fine, it’s just down stairs, I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

“Same thing you said when we didn’t drive him home, Vaughn.”

Rhys sighs, and he looks over at Timothy directly now, and the older man stands up, walking over to Rhys. “I’ll take Timothy with me, if it makes you guys feel any better, okay?” he says, and Timothy nods in agreement, though he thinks that it’s completely out of the ordinary that everyone seems to be freaking out over Rhys walking down the stairs alone. Vaughn nods, and he watches as Rhys leaves, Timothy following close behind. He feels like something is off with him, with everything, and he’s desperate to find out what it is, other than Jack being right on his tail, and he walks to the vending machine, just as he said that he would, and he sits down on a bench, sighing softly as Timothy looks at him. The older man seems worried, and Rhys can’t help but smile, and as TImothy is about to ask him what was wrong, Rhys laughs a bit. It’s weak, defeated, and Rhys is showing exactly what he’s feeling inside. “You know, sometimes, he’d look at me like you are now,” Rhys says, and he’s gripping his loosely fitted night pants, and Timothy can see his facial expression soften in a matter of seconds. “He would always, since we’d been engaged, tell me that he loved me, he’d do anything for me.” That’s when Timothy notices the ring on the younger man’s finger.

He hasn’t bothered to take it off, knowing the connotations.

“And you’re still searching for something because you think that Jack’s a good person, right?” Timothy asks him, and he’s got his hands running along the mask on his face. “I’m gonna show you something, and you can’t say anything, okay? I need for you to see what he’s capable of.” Timothy is unclipping his mask, and Rhys sucks in a breath as Timothy takes the mask off, revealing that there’s a large scar on his face, and it looks exactly like Jack’s, but Rhys would dare to say that it looks much worse than his. “Jack did this to me, Rhys. He did this not long after he got his scar.”

Rhys is silent for a moment, and Timothy clips the mask back on, sighing ever so slightly. “I’m supposed to be his perfect copy, right? Perfect like he is in every way.” Rhys is shaking, and Timothy quickly realizes that he’s crying again, and he moves to sit next to Rhys, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and holding him close to him. Timothy can’t help but feel bad for him, because Rhys is an absolute wreck, and he knows that Rhys wants to see Jack again, but they just can’t let that happen. As devoted as Rhys is, they’re still not going to let him put his own life in danger just to see him again, and he’s certain that Rhys knows that, but he still wants to.

And late that night, everyone is finally asleep, except Rhys, and he manages to wiggle away from Vaughn’s arms, moving quickly and out of the door of the hotel room, walking down the dimly lit hallway and out to the pool area. He knows that he looks disgusting, he knows that he’s been wearing the same clothing, minus the underwear. He sits down on the edge of the pool and dips his feet into the cool water, moving them around a bit, and he begins to really, really miss home. He misses hot showers, cool bedsheets and actually changing clothes. Nothing is really stopping him from changing clothes except for the fact that he needs to go and actually buy clothing now. Rhys pulls his phone out of his pocket, looking at the time, and it’s only two in the morning. His heart flutters a bit, his mind thinking of Jack as he looks around for anyone that could be watching as he dials the home phone number. He’s an idiot, he thinks, and he knows that Jack is going to find him, but he’s calling him anyway, and he’s not expecting an answer, because he’s certain that he’s on his tail.

“Hello? Do you have any fucking idea what time it is?” Jack slurs against the phone, voice groggy, and Rhys knows that voice. He’s been sleeping, and he woke him up, so he probably wasn’t even aware that it was him calling. Rhys’s mouth is open, but he can’t seem to form words, so he just listens, and Jack seems to be moving around. “Spit it out, I could be sleeping, here.”

Rhys swallows, his voice seems to fail him, and it cracks when he finally gets himself to speak, “J-Jack? Hey, it’s me.”

And as if something had awakened inside of him, Jack suddenly seemed very alert, his voice strangely calm, “Rhys? Finally done playin’ hide and seek, kiddo? Where the hell are you at?” And Rhys wishes that he still had his cybernetic arm, because he was getting nervous just talking to Jack after so long. He can hear Jack sigh on the the other end of the line, and he sounds so stable, but Rhys can’t exactly tell, because he knows that Jack knows how to play a role. “Have you even bothered to change your clothes? You probably look exactly like a goddamn bandit right now.”

Rhys is trying his best to hold in a sob, and he’s not doing a good job, because Jack hears him, and he’s asking him why  _ he’s  _ crying, when it should really be the other way around. Rhys manages to choke out a small  _ ‘I don’t know’ _ , and Jack is sighing again, and he asks Rhys where he is again, because he needs to take him away from them, from his friends, or, as Jack put it, the people that obviously kidnapped his Rhys, because  _ his  _ Rhys would never leave, would never try to avoid him. Rhys swallows, and he finally responds, his tongue seeming to betray him, “Jack, you hurt me. You almost killed me, several times, in fact.”

“Yeah? Tell me more about that, pumpkin,” Jack replies, and he’s definitely on high alert now, because Rhys can hear something clicking in the background. “Because, see, as I recall, you never really cared about this before you talked to Timothy or Vaughn. I want my  _ Rhysie  _ back, the one with a spine, the one that could handle a bit of pain without screaming to everyone he knows about it. That’s why Cassius died, you know. Because he was going to try and help you, because he was going to take you away from me.” Rhys is crying again now, doing his best not to be too loud, because he didn’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to himself. Jack’s voice is almost like pure honey when he speaks, “I don’t like when people mess with my things, Rhys. I especially don’t like it when my fiancé runs away from me. Now, Rhys, if I were you, I’d just,” and there’s the sound of something rattling in the background now, and Rhys is pretty sure that he’s getting dressed, “tell me where you’re at, y’know, so I can come and get ya. And things won’t get messy if you just get in the fucking car, okay? If you don’t tell me, don’t think I can’t find you. Your friends are just bandits to me at this point, and I’m not gonna lie, other Jack is definitely gonna die eventually, and y’know, in fact, I’m a good guy. I could have detonated the bomb in his face at any moment, but nah, I didn’t.”

Rhys is quiet, and Jack is urging on a response. Rhys swallows, and he knows that if he doesn’t tell him, he’s going to hurt everyone that he knows. Jack’s voice is becoming louder, and he’s almost begging for Rhys to say something, anything. Jack’s voice seems to become more and more desperate, “Please, baby, I won’t hurt you, please. I’m okay, I’m alright, just… please, talk to me, okay? I’m begging you, just let me call you back, on my cell phone, I’ll be right there, I’ll come to you, we can meet far away from your friends, we can work this out.”

That’s when Rhys feels his phone vibrate, and he sees an incoming call on the other line, and it’s Jack’s cell number, and Rhys answers it, and it’s as if Jack never stops talking. “I’m in the car now, I’m pulling out of the driveway, honey, sweetheart, sugar pie, I’m coming to find you. Let’s make this easy, okay? Don’t wanna give ya a hard time. You tell me where you’re at, and I don’t blow other Jack’s face up.”

Rhys is moving now, standing up and walking away from the pool and back into the hotel, moving down to the lobby and out the front door, and his voice is quiet so that the people that were checking into the hotel wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Don’t do anything to any of them, Jack. I’m walking out, and I’m heading to the nearest gas station.”

“Don’t hang the phone up, Rhys. I’m gonna need to talk to you all the way there,” Jack says, his voice the calmest that Rhys has heard it in a while. “You cold, baby? I should have asked you that before, but I’m sure I’ve still got your blanket in this car. You’re traumatized, scared, because those bandit bastards took you, I know.”

Rhys wishes that he wasn’t so weak, wishes that he wasn’t playing into Jack’s hands, and Jack is still talking to him, telling him that he’s going to take such good care of him, and Rhys’s eyes are watering now, and he’s right at the gas station, and it takes a little bit of time, but Jack is there eventually, and he steps out of the car, still on the phone with Rhys. “I’ve gotta get some gas,” he says into the phone as he walks into the station, and he walks back out in a matter of seconds, pumping gasoline into his car, whistling almost innocently, and he walks over to Rhys and finally ends the call between them. “You are just… absolutely disgusting right now, Rhys.”

Rhys looks away from him for a moment, and Jack’s grabbing his jaw, turning him toward him in a matter of seconds. “No, no, no, you’ve been away for far too long, you have to look at me now, okay? You understand?” Rhys nods, and Jack releases his grip on his face, nudging his head in the car’s direction, and Rhys follows him to the car, sitting in the passenger’s seat, and Jack looks down at the younger man’s hand, and he hits the steering wheel, laughing. “So happy right now, you actually didn’t take it off, baby.”

And that’s when Rhys’s phone is ringing, and Jack looks over at him as they begin to drive off, and he smiles at Rhys. “Who’s calling you?”

A pause, and then Rhys answers him, “It’s Vaughn.”

“At almost three in the morning? Hell no, let me have the phone, Rhysie,” and Jack takes the phone from him without allowing him a choice, and Jack’s voice is amused, telling Vaughn how he was sparing them, and how they should thank Rhys for being so cooperative. Rhys can imagine the horror on everyone’s face, and that’s a mental image that he could do without. Jack’s laughing now, “Hey, Vaughn, how close are ya to other Jack? Y’all standing together? Well, that’s just perfect.” Jack reaches into his jacket pocket and fumbles around, and Rhys almost screams in horror, and now he’s crying, because he has a feeling that Jack just killed everyone. “Hello? Vaughn? Oh, ho, man, that’s good! I bet all three of ya are dead, holy shit!”

Rhys is sobbing now, and Jack finally ends the call, handing the phone back to Rhys. “Mm, too bad for them, huh?” Jack reaches over to wipe the tears from Rhys’s eyes as they finally pull into the driveway of their home, and Rhys wishes that he would just leave him alone. This is all his fault, he knows that it is, and he knows that he’s in big trouble, but he wonders if that would really be so bad, after all. He swallows as he reenters the home that he had tried so hard to escape from, and Jack is laughing as he locks the door up. “Now, you go and change your fucking clothes, then meet me in the basement, okay? We’re gonna have a nice little talk about discipline.”

Rhys does as he’s told, and he walks into the bathroom, running the water in the bathtub that he had missed so much. He walks to the door and blocks it up with a chair and anything else that he could find. He sighs, content, and as the water eventually fills up, he climbs into the bathtub, submerging his entire body into it, and he can hear Jack at the door, and he can only think of how fucked he is at this point, because Jack actually manages to get into the bathroom, and he’s right above him, Rhys can see him through the water, and Jack’s are hands immediately at his throat, pulling him out of the water and throwing him onto the floor, and he’s on top of him now, hands gripping his throat harder than they ever had, and Jack is  _ squeezing _ . “You wanna go down like this, sweetheart? I’ll let you, I’ll help you kill yourself, sugar pie.”

And Rhys’s vision is blurring, tears stinging at his eyes, and Jack is laughing at him, telling him how cute he is, telling him how he’ll never really escape him, and how he’s done everything for him. He keeps repeating that he loves Rhys, over and over, and Rhys is close to dying, he knows it, because he can feel the saliva pooling in his mouth, and his vision is darkening. He's not fighting him back this time, either. There's no point, because this is the only way out, the only way that he'll truly be free. And then, that's when the curtain finally seems to close.

The last thing that he hears is Jack’s voice, screaming out in a worried tone, telling him that he’s sorry, and that he never meant it, and  _ damn _ , if Rhys didn’t want to believe it. It was far too late, now.


	15. knockin' on heaven's door

Rhys seems to wake up, suddenly, without warning, and he could have sworn that Jack was just on top of him, strangling him, and he wasn’t fighting back this time, no, because it was useless, he was trapped, and he knew that he was. But now, he was somewhere completely different, somewhere that was much more… calm, much less scary, because somehow, his mind was clear, he felt great, and he places his fingers to his neck, but his throat doesn’t hurt when he touches it anymore. It’s just an all around good feeling, and in the distance, he can see Vaughn and the others, and they’re waving him over, and Rhys couldn’t be happier, because they were supposed to be dead.

And he finds himself light, airy, and it’s a constant state of euphoria that just won’t quit, and Rhys can honestly say that he wouldn’t want that to stop, ever. How long was he blind? How long had he been suffering under the touch of Handsome Jack, with his mind somehow convincing him to call it love? No, it wasn’t his mind. It was Jack, pulling the strings, as always, and he won, Rhys guessed. Who really won, that was another story, because Rhys was pretty damn sure that he was the real winner, here. He was certain, certain that Jack was probably crying now, if he truly cared.

That wasn’t his problem anymore, he told himself.

It wasn’t his problem, because he was alright. He was okay. He could move on from that, because this was certainly some sort of heaven, and he was right there at it, his eyes shift over, his friends are there, still, and he’s uncertain about that. He’d had a crowning moment of stupid when he gave in to Jack’s desire to see him, but for some reason, it was alright, because that was the past. He was finally free, and Jack would have to suffer for it, forever. Rhys wondered how that whole AI thing was going to work out for him. Rhys couldn’t even imagine, and yet, somehow, he wanted to see what was going on.

He wanted to see Jack suffer, wanted to see him have to live with what he’s done, how he had actually killed Rhys, how he strangled the life out of him. Most of all, he wanted to watch him squirm when it finally hit him, and Rhys was certain that it would happen eventually, because it had to, it had to, because Jack would know that he was the one that made Rhys leave him. He’s absolutely terrible, a monster, and Rhys wanted to let Jack know that. He wanted to tell him how he felt, wanted to be the ghost that haunted him for as long as it took. He was determined to make that happen.

And suddenly, a sharp stinging pain, and he’s… floating? Floating around in their old bedroom, and Rhys feels himself beginning to choke, because no, no, much too soon and much too fast. He’s almost sure that he’s the hologram now, and he looks down at his hands, and yes, if the fact that he was some sort of orange color was any indication, then yes. He looks around, and he doesn’t see Jack, doesn’t see him anywhere nearby. Rhys gets used to the floating idea, the movements of being somewhat airborne, and he floats into the bathroom, and he guesses that it must not have been long after that happened that the AI started working, or Jack  _ made  _ it start working, because there was Jack, and he’s shaking Rhys’s dead body, screaming for him to wake up. Rhys fights the urge to tell him to stop trying, and he wants to go over to Jack and absolutely tear into him.

“Sweetheart, Rhysie, come on,” Jack’s voice is becoming somewhat strained, and he’s got his head on Rhys’s chest, and he’s pleading, begging for him to come back, but nope, Rhys thinks, it’s not happening. He’s watching, and he feels a bit like he’s winning here, and Jack wasn’t even aware of his presence. Rhys swallows, and he approaches the scene, still floating, still moving slowly, and he’s right there, right above them, and Jack has his hands gripping Rhys’s wet shirt, his teeth gritted. Rhys watches as Jack pulls him up, toward him, “You didn’t fight back, baby,” and he’s stroking his hair now, “you didn’t even fight me back.”

Rhys scoffs, and Jack’s head immediately whips in his direction, and his eyes are wide, and he looks  _ scared _ . Rhys decides that it’s for the best that he goes ahead and gets the initial shock out of the way, but Jack is just  _ staring  _ at him in awe, like he was some sort of deity, and Rhys could live with that. It certainly beat Jack with his hands at his throat or his fist flying into his face. Jack is noticeably at a loss for words, and he’s looking down again, and then up at him, and the older man places a hand to his face, and he seems to be losing the control that he has. “I couldn’t, Jack. You actually killed me, long before you ever put your hands around my throat.”

Jack’s expression changes, and he’s looking up at Rhys again, and he tells him that he’s sorry, and Rhys immediately tells him to cut the crap. Rhys can’t believe how good it feels to finally be able to stand up to Jack, and Jack seems shocked that he’d do it. Jack stands up, walks over to where he’s floating, and he’s just looking at him, and Rhys moves his hands, trying to touch Jack’s face, and he can’t, and Jack swallows, and it’s not long before he tells him that he’s a hologram, and he’s disappointed, Rhys knows, because he can see the way that his expression changes.

“You killed me, Jack.” The room is silent, and Jack breathes in deeply, and then out again, and Rhys repeats himself, “You fucking  _ killed  _ me, Jack! With your own two hands!” And Jack is silent, watching Rhys, and then he looks away, and Rhys swallows, because he feels like he’s about to cry, and this is just a bit too much for him, a bit too real, and Jack’s emotions are certainly not hidden here, they’re all on the table now, and Rhys is going to be sure that Jack knows how he feels, too. “Why won’t you say anything?” Rhys notices that his own voice is trembling, and Jack’s looking at him again. “Why couldn’t you just love me? I wasn’t going to leave…”

“Rhys…” Jack’s voice is calm, and he’s trying his best to get to Rhys, to hold him in his arms, but there’s nothing he can do, nothing, and Rhys is reminding him of that, telling him that he can’t, because he’s dead, and he’s a hologram now. Jack seems to growl, and he punches the wall, possibly in frustration, and Rhys is watching him, and Jack finally turns toward him again, after he throws his little fit, and he’s starring Rhys in the eyes.

“I… I killed you, but you were trying to kill yourself, Rhysie. If I hadn’t come along, if you hadn’t run away, I would’ve…” Jack sighs, and it’s a long, held breath, “Fuck…” Jack’s hands move onto his hips, and he looks frustrated, and Rhys is watching him, and he’s waiting for whatever clever excuse comes from Jack, whatever it is that he’s going to say, and it never comes. Excuses never come, and Rhys wonders why this all happened in the first place. They say that everything happens for a reason, but Rhys hasn’t found it just yet, and he doesn’t imagine that he will. But, that’s alright, because he’s making sure that Jack doesn’t ever forget that he was the one that drove him away, the one that killed him, and he’s pretty sure that when Jack created his AI, he never counted on Rhys actually standing up to him. He counted on Rhys never leaving him, but he never took into consideration that Rhys was always going to be there, as long as Jack lived, and he was going to make sure that he never,  _ ever  _ forgot what he did to him.

He’d never forget, and Rhys would always make sure of that. And excuses never come, because Jack can’t find any validity in his reasoning behind killing him, other than an intense homicidal desire, Rhys figures. He tells Jack that it’s just because he wanted to get his rocks off, and it’s absolute torture for the older man. It’s so torturous, that Hyperion’s little empire has started to fall, and Jack’s mind is slowly moving into a terrible place, more terrible than it ever was, and Rhys knew that it was because Jack was having to live with what he’d done.

Everyone knew what had happened. Yvette was extremely concerned, and Rhys was happy to hack her ECHO and let her know, and since then, things weren’t the same at Hyperion, and Jack had to deal with it all himself. And at night, when Jack was trying his hardest to drink the problems away, Rhys would be right there, and he’d be reminding him, telling him how it felt to have his hands around his throat, crushing his windpipe, how it felt to have way too many painkillers administered to him, and how it felt to hear your best friend die. How he killed an old man because he apparently, _ in Jack’s words _ , ‘knew too much’. Jack couldn’t get away from it this time, and Rhys tells him constantly that he actually loved him, that he wishes that they would have at least been married before he decided that he didn’t want him anymore. And when he says that, Jack finally snaps, and he’s sobbing, begging for Rhys to forgive him, and Rhys tells him that it’s over, and that he can’t forgive him any more than he had back then, back when he was still alive.

Rhys hopes that Jack carries that weight forever.

 


End file.
